Betrayed
Kathy slept fitfully through the night, awaking multiple times. Once, she swore she heard banging at the door, then the tinkling of glass shattering and falling, bouncing on the linoleum kitchen floor. Another time she was almost convinced there were footsteps in the hall, echoing creepily and growing closer with each second. Passing all of these odd noises as the house groaning in the wind, or the bare limbs reaching out and scraping the window glass, she always turned over, put the blanket up over her head and went back to sleep.
Finally, she heard heavy breathing. Waking fully, she knew this wasn't made up; this wasn't the house creaking or the kids playing a trick on her. She crept slowly towards the closet, where the silver platinum bat was hidden. Her sweaty feet made suctioning noises as she avoided the weak boards, trying to go undetected. The heavy oaken door swung open with a little persuasion, the hinges stiff and rusting and squealing loudly as they worked. Kathy winced outwardly, hoping to God that he wouldn't hear it, or her labored breaths.
Her fingers groped through the darkness, struggling to find the cool handle of the bat…nothing. Her brain scrambled, panicking. Kathy's eyes swiveled up and down, side to side, straining to find the outline of the defense weapon. Not even a faintly resembling shape popped out in the pitch darkness. She tried to keep her mind away from the fact that every hollow step that grew closer was a step, a second closer to her possible and probable death.
And as many have heard many times, her life flashed before her eyes. From the first age she could remember until the very night previous, memories flooded in. Her eyes were full to the brim with tears, but refused to let them spill. No, she would remain strong.
There was only one person, she knew, who could have known about the bat. She had told the children about it, told them they mustn't move it at all, unless it was a complete emergency. They had understood and sworn to uphold the rule. There was only one person who had the opportunity to get the keys to the new locks on all the doors. There was only one person she knew of who could pull off the perfect crime. But she didn't know why. Why would Elliot do such a thing; threaten the mother of his own flesh and blood? Elliot was a good man, a good man with some anger issues, but never towards his family and friends, only perverts and criminals.
Even being shunned from his work life and separated most of the time by his demanding work in the office and on the streets, Kathy had managed to pick up on a few things, like motive. Motive, Elliot had motive. He had a lot of it, actually. She knew she had taken away the one thing he really cared for, and she knew very well that he was very angry. Actually, there were five of those special things: Maureen, Kathleen, Dickey, Elizabeth and Eli. He would never let them go without a fight, and here he was…fighting. A renewed spark lit in her brain, a dying determination to save her children.
She had learned about opportunity, too. Elliot spent every free moment with his children. He could have snatched the keys for the new locks to the house when one of the older girls wasn't looking and saved it somewhere private. He could have been waiting for a good chance. Maybe he had the night off from work and had come up with a fake alibi. Maybe she was just plain crazy.
On the other hand, she thought, he was always at work. She should have known that from all the times he hadn't bothered to come home for dinner, or at all. Olivia and his three other detective friends would back him up, along with that boss of his, Cragen. She knew what they'd say, too: "Who do you think the jury will believe: a distressed ex – wife dealing with bringing up five kids alone and getting over a divorce or a decorated cop, even a detective with a relatively good reputation and an alibi?" No, she didn't have a chance and yes, she knew it.
So caught up in the battle between her heart and her brain, she didn't notice the stranger in black enter the room. She didn't hear the closet door groan when it was pulled open from the outside. No, that sounded like a soft sigh the house often gave in the middle of the night. She didn't feel the air rush as his hand barely missed the small of her back. Nor did she hear the cold slide of metal as he drew his weapon. She didn't smell death or blood until he had his arm around her waist and his knife to her throat. She didn't smell it until she was bound and cut. She didn't realize anything until the screen in her head went fuzzy and finally blank, until it was too late.
*
Policemen tramped up and down the stairs, going through her family's belongings. A particularly ugly, gruff looking man stooped down to look beneath the bed. He could barely see over the great round lump of his stomach. He had apparently been sneaking seconds at dinner time. Trembling beneath the wooden frame of her bed, she was found frozen by fear hours later by the police. She was wheeled away on a stretcher by paramedics and was transported to Bellevue Hospital for observation until her father came to pick her up.
*
"Will she be okay?" Elliot asked, concerned, to the doctor sitting in front of him. Dr. Roy was a thin, muscled man with a clean – shaven face and thick, brownish – red hair. He looked barely over twenty seven, just out of college, and for some unknown reason, Elliot didn't trust him. It wasn't that he didn't think Dr. Roy was well trained and very smart, but he seemed too inexperienced and young to handle his daughter's case. Or maybe he was just overreacting to a simple case of shock.
"She'll be fine," Dr. Roy said, smiling brightly and looking down at Elliot's youngest daughter with warm, blue eyes. "She's in shock. We gave her some sleeping medication and nutrient – infused fluids. We're keeping her over night for observation. I'll release her tomorrow morning."
"Thank you," Elliot murmured.
"They say she witnessed something last night," the doctor pressed gently. "Do you know what she saw? It might help her to see a psychiatrist."
"You think my daughter's crazy?"
"No, just that she might feel better if she talks to someone, and sometimes it's easier for a young girl to talk to a stranger rather than her friends or her family," Dr. Roy said.
"Thank you, doctor, I'll take that into consideration," Elliot said firmly in a very dismissive way. The handsome doctor picked up a chart and a clipboard and strode from the room on long legs. His doctor's jacket billowed out behind him.
Elliot spent the night at the hospital, eventually joined by his four other kids, who had luckily been out of the house. Elizabeth slept until the morning. In the time between then and Elizabeth's release from the hospital, Elliot paced the halls. Everything was too sterile; the place almost had a shiny glow to it. The air stank of latex and medication. Every room looked the exact same: square, white with a bed pushed in the corner with machines all around it and a visitor's chair beside the bed.
He hated hospitals. Only bad thoughts came to mind whenever the word "hospital" jumped into his brain. He didn't even want to think about it.
As promised, Dr. Roy gave Elliot the release forms at eight in the morning, on the dot. Elliot drove Elizabeth and the others home, stopping for ice cream on the way. Elizabeth got the biggest size, whatever she wanted. Plus, ice cream was "comfort food". Everyone loves ice cream and chocolate, especially when you smush them together as double chocolate ice cream with peanut butter chunks.
The next day, Elliot went into work, leaving Maureen and Kathleen in charge of the house with strict instructions on allowing Elizabeth first choice to everything. For once, they abided without a fuss. Eli went to day care and Dickey stayed at his friend Paul's house for the day. Paul's parents were only too happy to oblige. The two were close, like brothers. They called themselves cousins.
Being at worked was comforting to Elliot. Warmth spread through his heart when he saw Olivia, bright eyed and cheery, but appropriately sorry at the same time. Fin behaved for once and Munch gave him a Munch – like "welcome back" speech.
"So," he said, once he was situated again at his usual desk. "What've we got?"
"You know we can't really tell you," Liv said softly, gently. "I'll update you, but you'll always have to be at arm's length. I'm sorry, El." She looked at him with sympathetic eyes, so full of emotion that Elliot almost forgot his problems. She was the one to tear her gaze away, blushing. Cragen turned his back, pretending not to notice. The one thing he didn't want on his mind then was the thought of his two best detectives in a relationship equaling more than ordinary friendship.
"Yeah, I know," he sighed. "Call me when you've got something." With that, he picked up his coat and a cup of bitter coffee and strode from the room. He passed the assistant district attorney, Kim Greyleck, on the way out. She had her hair down for once, but it lacked to soften her bony face with sunken eyes and thin lips. He paused, looked at her, and continued on his way.
"Elliot, I'm sorry about your wife's death," Kim said, not sounding sorry at all. Her steely eyes showed no emotion, not that they ever did anyways.
"Yeah, thanks." Her heels clacked and faded as she went through the double doors leading to the squad room. Elliot honestly did not want to know what she was about to tell the squad, presumably about his wife's case.
Wait, he thought to himself suddenly, we don't know if she's dead yet.
But in his heart, he thought he knew. He felt like a part of him had died on the inside, and everything else was falling apart without that tiny piece.
*
The call came on a Saturday, three weeks and six days from Elliot's three hour long visit to work. It was early in the morning and the sky was a perfect cloudless blue. The sun was still rising higher in the sky, its yellow glow growing brighter gradually. Elliot was letting the kids sleep in, as they well deserved it. They were being spoiled. He wasn't planning on waking them up for church the next day.
It was the home phone. Elliot was working on paying bills and organizing paperwork. About to ignore it, he caught sight of the well known number. It was Cragen, but he couldn't think of any reason why the squad would be calling, other than to bring bad news. Hating himself, he picked up the phone and dreaded the words he knew he was about to hear.
"Hello, Stabler residence," he said flatly.
"Elliot, it is Cragen," a husky voice on the other side of the phone line said.
"I know," Elliot said briskly, wanting to get to the point and get it over with as quickly as possible. He rapped his fingers rhythmically on the wooden table he was sitting at, impatient. Switching hands, he began drumming his right fingers as a way to calm himself.
"Well, I hate to tell you this, and you have all our best wishes but –," Cragen began.
"With all due respect, Captain, just get to the point." There was a tense pause.
"They found her this morning."
"Oh, okay, where?" Elliot's heart began pounding. He had known this conversation would come. He had been preparing for it, preparing what he would finally say to his children, prepared how to handle their heartbroken reactions. But now that it was here, he had absolutely no idea what to do.
"Well, it was delivered to the squad room in a wooden package," Cragen sighed sadly. "Melinda says she couldn't have been dead three hours before she was sent off. But there were signs of a struggle, and there are burns and cuts all over her."
"So she was tortured," he clarified slowly, still processing the words.
"Yes. I need you to come down and identify the body, just to be sure."
"Okay. I'll be down as soon as I can," Elliot said. "I'm leaving now. I just have to tell the kids I'm leaving." He hung up the phone, not waiting to hear sympathy from his boss. He didn't want it. All he wanted was for this mess to clear up so he could move on with his life.
He knocked gently on Kathleen's door. She was awake, propped up in bed by her millions of frilly, turquoise and brown pillows with a book she was intently reading. Kathleen barely lifted her eyes from the filled pages when her father sat down on the very edge of her bed.
"What're you doing up so early?" Elliot asked jokingly. She shrugged, still reading.
"Well I've got to step out for a few," he said. "Take care of everything, I'll be back soon." He gave her a half – hug good – bye and kissed her forehead.
"Shut the door!" she called to him on his way out. He doubled back and closed the sign – filled door. There was a small click as the lock fell into place.
*
Elliot took a deep, slow breath, calming his nerves and stepped through the double doors and into the squad room. Frustration and disgusting coffee met his nose, and four especially grim faces followed that. Olivia laid a hand on the upper of his arm and led him to the morgue.
"I want to go in," he insisted. He was standing behind the glass screen. Kathy lay on the other side. He had to be with her, to touch her and say his good – byes one last time before her burial. He needed to feast his eyes on her beautiful body until she was lowered into the ground forever, to rest in peace with God and the rest of her deceased family. Elliot knew she would be happier.
"Are you sure?" Olivia asked. He nodded his head furiously. Of course he was sure.
Once he was comfortably situated on the other side of the glass, standing beside the covered corpse of his ex – wife, Melinda approached. She lifted the light blue sheet to just above Kathy's chest. Her hair was splayed messily behind her, it looked natural; Elliot liked it. She was more peaceful in death than in life, and perhaps paler, too, if possible.
"Yeah, that's her." He swallowed hard and left the room. Not one tear in his eye burned for her. He didn't waste time mourning. He had things to do, he had to move on. There was no use in wallowing in the past when the future held good things, better things.
"You okay, El?" Olivia asked as he brushed past her. He stopped just before the door and looked her dead in the eye, his face softening. Melinda disappeared into the background and slipped away, out the door. She could read emotions.
"Could be better," he admitted. He smiled a small, sad smile. She smiled back wryly, moving a bit closer, inch by inch, second by second. She took his hand in hers.
"Hold still," she said, leaning in and trying not to breathe too hard on him. She hoped her breath didn't smell bad. That would be the ultimate humiliation.
But Elliot wasn't thinking about her breath. He was looking at her face, her beauty. She was so stunning up so close. He wished he had seen this earlier. Maybe he never would have married Kathy. He scolded himself. Not marrying Kathy wasn't a mistake, it was a blessing. Without her, he wouldn't have five beautiful children. A fresh wave of sorrow rolled over him for his dead ex – wife, but passed.
"Why?" he asked, eyes wide.
"I want to try something," she said, eyes closing. And she closed the space between them. Her lips pressed against his for many lush, fantastic seconds. She pulled away, but he held her firmly. She was his new love, his new life. She had been for many years now; it had only been a matter of time.
"I – I've got to go," he said awkwardly, stumbling from the room, leaving Olivia ruffled and feeling a bit silly.
"We'll find who did this," she promised to the empty room, to Kathy. And she too turned and left the room, leaving Kathy's spirit alone in the darkness.
*
The squad room was hot and sticky, though outside it was frigid. It had been many days since Kathy Stabler's death, and Elliot had planned a nice burial with their church. The date was set to January 2nd, and it was nearing Christmas time.
Olivia wiped a small bead of sweat from the top of her brow, near her hair line. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was forensics, and test results were back. She picked up the phone to hear Melinda's cheery voice, brisk as the air outside.
"Morning, Liv," she said.
"What's up?" Olivia asked, still working on the mountainous pile of paperwork precariously stacked on top of her desk. She paused for a moment to look across at the empty seat facing her, and the papers and organizing office equipment that hadn't been touched for weeks.
"Well we found a fingerprint on a fabric inside her trachea. It was only a partial and we're running right now, I'll tell you if something pops," Melinda began. "There were a few fibers inside the cuts and other small things that are being checked out. No drugs or alcohol, but that was expected."
"Thanks, Melinda," Olivia said. She sighed, unhappy that there wasn't any really good news to give Elliot. She so wanted to see joy spread over his beautiful face. But not this time, not yet.
"Olivia," she said, before Olivia had the chance to hang up. "How's Elliot doing?"
"I don't know," Olivia confessed, feeling slightly bad about not checking up on her partner of so many years. "I'm planning on seeing him tonight, if I get the chance."
"Okay, tell him I hope he's well."
"I will. Bye, Melinda." Melinda hung up first. Olivia took a few moments out of her busy life to listen to the dead hum of the dial tone. She wished life was that simple, no bumps or ups and downs.
She had lied. She wasn't planning on seeing Elliot that night. She wasn't planning on going to his house any time soon. Their last encounter had been awkward and inappropriate, and she didn't think either of them wanted a repeat. Thinking about it made her shiver, so she turned back to the only thing she really had in life: her tedious, complicated work.
*
"So there wasn't any hit on the fingerprint?" Olivia asked, disappointed.
"No, but even if we found a match, it would never hold up in court. Now, the other things we had a bit more luck with," the man in the white lab coat said. Olivia didn't know his name, didn't care to, anyways. It wasn't her business.
He put a slide underneath a microscope and pushed it towards Olivia. She bent down and looked through to the few fibers in oober bright light and scary detail.
"I give up. What is it?"
"It's from a car carpet, probably in the trunk," the guy told her. "We're still trying to figure out from what car, but we'll know soon enough. Now the wood was your basic oak, could've come from anywhere. From the crude building of the box, it was probably home made, but that wouldn't hold up in court or be useful to get the guy – lots of people can use wood."
"What about the others?"
"There was foreign blood mixed in with the victim's. We couldn't separate it enough to hit any DNA matches, but we know it's A – positive and female."
"Well A – positive isn't exactly a rare blood type, so I doubt that will help. Do you have anything concrete that we can use to catch this girl?"
"I'm afraid not yet. Maybe we'll find something later, if she strikes again."
"Maybe…."
"Well, thanks mister." Olivia left the building feeling as though she hadn't learned anything use – full to the case, and in a way, she hadn't. They had a few tips that might point them in a general direction, but even a lousy defense attorney could knock the bits and pieces of evidence down.
*
"A body's turned up in the Hudson River," Cragen told the squad room. "She has torture signs all over her body. She's been identified as Kherrington Rogers from Queens. Her apartment has a lot of blood in it, and nothing found so far. But I want Olivia over there. You two go check out the neighbors and her friends – anyone that might have known her. I want a time line."
"That sounds similar to Kathy's murder," Olivia pointed out. "Do you think it could be the same person? Maybe she's getting better, getting addicted."
"Let's hope that's not the case," Cragen said grimly before returning to his solitary office.
*
Back in the squad room at the end of the day, Fin and Munch reported that Kherrington had been a very lonely, unsocial girl who didn't talk to anyone or had any friends. She had been the end of her family tree; everyone else was either dead, in prison since before she was born, or missing.
"So we've got nothing," Cragen clarified.
"Doorman didn't even recognize the girl as ever living there," Fin said, "but she definitely did."
"It looked a lot like Kathy's murder," Olivia said. "The scene fit and the body will probably, too, once Melinda finishes the autopsy and the drug reports come back."
"Back to square one," Munch said.
"Not exactly," Olivia said. "There's always Elizabeth. She was there the night her mother was murdered, she saw everything. We need to talk to her. She's our only lead."
"Do you really think Elliot will let us?" Cragen asked.
"Of course not," Fin shot down the idea momentarily. "He's a hardhead in general, what do you think he'll be like when it comes to his kids?"
"Kathy was his wife," she pointed out. "Maybe he'll let her help. It's worth a shot, unless you've got a better plan." She looked at Fin expectantly. He pursed his lips and grabbed his coat.
"No," Cragen said, stopping them. "Munch, Olivia, you two go. Fin, you and Elliot have some kind of beef between you two. The last thing we need right now is tension in the room, especially with a witness. You two, see if he'll let you talk to them. If you can, try and get them down here. Go slow."
*
"Hi," Elliot said, shocked to see his visitors. "Uh…come in. Can I help you?" He opened the door and stepped back, allowing his colleagues to enter the room. Kathleen dashed from her spot in the kitchen where she was making soup for an extra late dinner. Maureen left the television running and went up to her room with Kathleen. Dickey, who had been doing homework, slipped up the stairs silently, leaving the two official detectives alone with his father.
"We need to talk to Elizabeth," Olivia said. "She's our only hope." Elliot's jaw muscle ticked quickly as he thought this request through. He wasn't sure he was ready to give Elizabeth up to the police and their questioning quite yet, even if it was Olivia and Munch. He knew they worked perfectly well with children, but Elizabeth was special. She was his. But he owed at least this much to Kathy.
"Okay, I'll go get her," he agreed grudgingly.
"Ahm, why don't we just stay in her room? She might feel more…comfortable," Olivia offered. Elliot nodded, and the two followed Elliot up to Elizabeth's room.
Elizabeth was in bed, half reading a book and half watching infomercials. She looked up when the three entered the room, clicking the television off and folding a page down in her book, to save her spot. She chewed her lip nervously, knowing very well what they were there about. She just didn't want to share her information, didn't want to relive the horrors of that night.
"Hi Elizabeth," Olivia said warmly. Munch sat back in the corner with Elliot and watched.
"I know what you want," Elizabeth said, cutting right to the chase.
"Alright, then what can you tell us?"
"I didn't see anything but shadows," Elizabeth began, closing her eyes and trying her best to remember every detail that might help. "It was so scary. I thought he was going to come into my room. But he walked right by. He was a dark figure…dressed all in black. And he had boots on that were really loud in the hall. I heard him go into Mom's room, and I followed him. But I hid beneath my bed when he turned around. I thought he'd heard me breathing. I saw him go out again a long time later. He was covered in blood, I could smell it. I could see him dragging something behind him."
"Is there anything else, anything at all?" Olivia pressed gently.
"No. Not that I can remember, at least. I'm sorry."
"You did great, sweetheart, just fine. Thank you. Now, did you touch anything?"
"Yeah, he left a knife behind. I took it and hid it because it was the only thing I could see. It was in the middle of the hallway."
"Where did you put it?" Olivia looked around the room. Elizabeth pointed to a small wooden chest with the word "TOYS" carved in big, brightly painted letters. Munch opened it up, put on a latex glove and slipped a bloody knife into an evidence bag and sealed it. He examined it through the bag.
"Anything?" Elliot asked hopefully.
"A nice, bloody fingerprint should do it, unless it matches Elizabeth's," Munch said happily.
"No, I made sure not to touch the blood. I used a tissue."
"Good," Elliot said. "Will that be all?"
"For now," Olivia said, following Munch from the room and adding on her way out, "Melinda hopes you're well. Everyone wishes for the best. We'll find this girl."
"Thanks," Elliot murmured and shut the door as she turned away. He turned to his daughter.
"Will I have to testify?" Elizabeth asked, the tears that she had refused to show earlier shining clearly in her eyes. Elliot sat on the bed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight to his chest.
"Not if you don't want to," Elliot promised. "I won't make you. I won't let them make you."
"But I want to," Elizabeth said, pushing away. "If it helps, I want to."
"Are you sure?" Elliot looked into his youngest daughter's defiant eyes and already knew the answer. She nodded her head, yes, and he did too.
*
It was four a.m and Olivia was enjoying a few rare hours of blissful sleep. She hadn't taken any medication to put her to sleep, in case she was called away in the middle of the night, as she usually was. She was in a deep sleep, which was very rare for her.
The door was smashed in with a crash. Armed men in uniforms ran into the room, pointing their large guns at her. She jumped up in bed, looking around, confused and dazed and wondering if maybe she was just experiencing a very realistic, terrible nightmare.
An unfamiliar detective with his gold badge pinned proudly to his chest pocket yanked her out of bed and slapped cuffs on her wrists. Olivia, who had been speechless by shock until the moment, finally got her act together.
"What's going on?" she demanded angrily.
"Olivia Benson, we have a warrant for your arrest, signed by a judge." The detective showed her a blue folded up paper that Olivia recognized as a court order. She knew it wasn't a fake, and this wasn't a freaking dream. This was actually happening.
"What are you doing to me?" she asked, looking around still.
"Olivia Benson, you are under arrest for the murders of Kathy Stabler and Kherrington Rogers. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you…." The man dragged her away.
Outside, the media was terrible. The detective pushed their way through and roughly shoved her into a police car. He rapped the outside and it took off, wailing, the bright lights cutting the dark.
Elliot, standing in the crowd of onlookers, watched the lights fade into nothing, into the night of the city. Cold dread crawled up his spine and his heart ached. He just didn't want to face the truth. A single tear streaked down his cheek, but he brushed it away angrily and ducked back into his car and sped away before any of the press had the chance to talk to him or even notice he was there.
*
Olivia spent the night in a holding cell, still in her flannel pajamas. Early the next morning she was shaken awake and thrown into an interrogation room. The detective who had arrested her in the earlier hours of the morning entered, looking sinister. He opened his mouth to speak.
"I want a lawyer." She beat him to it. Looking pissed off; he left the room, slamming the door.
*
"What?" Melinda asked, looking Elliot dead in the eye. He was standing on her doorstep. She couldn't believe what he was telling her. She wouldn't.
"They arrested Olivia this morning."
"Why?"
"They charged her for the murder of Kathy and Rogers," he said.
"No, that's not possible. Has she said anything?"
"No, she's with her lawyer now. They said she lawyered up before the arresting officer had a chance to say a word."
"Sounds like Olivia," Melinda said, smiling faintly at her friend's stubbornness. "What can we do? They can't be right; I mean Olivia would never do that."
"I don't know," he said. "We're supposed to meet at the squad room soon, on Cragen's orders. I'm here to pick you up."
"Hold on a sec; come in while I change," she ran from the room and changed out of her bath robe and into slacks and a long sleeved shirt and a heavy sweater.
*
"What do they have against her, anything?" Fin asked as soon as Elliot and Melinda burst through the squad room doors.
"Elliot, you can't be in here," Cragen said, holding up a hand to stop Fin from talking. Elliot's face drained of color, but his obeyed his boss and left the room quickly. He felt all the eyes in the room boring holes into his back, even when he was gone.
"They have evidence?" Fin asked.
"Her blood type matches the type at the scene, and it's her bloody fingerprint on that knife that Elizabeth took and hid. The carpet fibers were a match to her car, and there were new carpets in her car and they found wood in her back yard. Right now, everything we've got is pointing to her," Cragen informed them with extra grimness.
"What about the other crime scene, Kherrington Rogers?" Munch asked. "Surely the killer left something behind there."
"All evidence on the body was washed away, but the M.O was exactly the same. The tox – screen came back negative for everything and nothing but the victim's blood was found at the crime scene. The weapon was found in a dumpster outside of Olivia's apartment building. The doorman remembers her leaving and going around back," Cragen said.
"No fingerprints or DNA," Melinda added.
"So there's nothing at all that will work in her defense?" Munch asked.
"I'm afraid so," the Captain said.
"Who's handling the case?" Fin asked.
"Detectives Marks and Rowan, two of the finest, are."
"Who's the judge?" Munch asked.
"My boss promised to take over the case, to ensure Olivia gets a fair trial. She's looking over everything," Kim said, speaking up for the first time in her space in the corner of the room, hidden. All eyes turned to her. She liked the attention. It gave her a feeling of the greatest power.
"Judge Donnelly? I didn't think she still…never mind," Melinda said. 'That's good; she's fair." Kim nodded in agreement and went silent, choosing to watch. She wanted to prosecute this case so badly, but that might attract bad attention to her. She wanted to remain low to the ground, unseen.
"Arraignment is tomorrow," Cragen said. "I want you all to be there."
*
Olivia's face got hot as she saw all her friends sitting there in defense for her. There she was, being led into the court room by two armed guards in dirty, wrinkled clothes and no badge or gun to make her feel as an equal. Olivia hated this. She was innocent, she knew she was.
The trial was slow and painful and even more so embarrassing. She hated the way her friends looked at her and she detested how Judge Donnelley looked down upon her like just another scum bag that was brought to court. Then again, that's how she was supposed to ask.
But most of all, there was Kim Greyleck. Kim and Olivia never got off on the right foot. In fact, they got off on the worst foot possible. Their eyes met for a moment, and Olivia could see the malice and laughter glinting in her cold eyes.
Mr. Matron was a as good a defense attorney as anyone else that was paid a million dollars an hour, but even the best would have looked like a first – year law student with the prosecution's evidence and reasoning. Olivia hated the NYPD for being so good at their jobs. She wondered if everyone she had brought to trial felt like that. They probably did. Her heart went out for them, but remembered that they were actually guilty. She, on the other hand, was not.
The trial ended a couple hours after it started. Olivia had lost count of the minutes early in the game. At one point, she thought that maybe the clock had broken because she couldn't see the hands moving anymore, not even the second hand.
Afterwards, she was lead back to her cage by the same two armed guards that had once been her friends, but now looked at her with sad, disappointed eyes. There, waiting for her, was Mr. Matron and Mrs. Enn, the prosecutor for the case.
"Olivia, Mrs. Enn has offered us a deal," Mr. Matron said in his nervous voice. He looked at Mrs. Enn and she took the lead, relieving Mr. Matron.
"Plead guilty to both of the murders and we'll go for ten to fifteen years, you could be out in as little as eight," Mrs. Enn said in a firm, non – negotiable way.
"What?" Olivia burst angrily. "Fifteen years in prison for something I didn't do? You've got to be crazy if you think I'm going to take that deal!"
"So that's a no? If we go to trial, you could be sentenced to a minimum of twenty – five. Is that what you want?" Mrs. Enn asked as though she were thoroughly surprised Olivia didn't take the deal immediately. Olivia looked her in the eye and shook her head vigorously: no.
"My client and I will discuss this later," Mr. Matron interrupted suddenly.
"Very well," Mrs. Enn said curtly. She turned and left the cage. The guard opened the door for her, checking her out as she click – clacked her way away. Olivia watched her, her blood boiling.
"You might want to re – think the deal," Mr. Matron said. "They have a lot of evidence against you; you could be out in eight years."
"Do you think I'm guilty?"
"What I think doesn't matter."
"I'll have an answer for you by tomorrow evening. Good – bye, Mr. Matron; I'll see you in the evening then." Olivia plastered a fake smile on her face, keeping it there until her good lawyer was out of sight. The jail bars shook as they were locked together again. Olivia sat there, alone, for a few minutes, thinking carefully about her next move.
*
It was nearing midnight and Elliot still couldn't get a wink of sleep. He had been up all night while his children rested, thinking about the trial earlier that day. He was battling with himself. One side of him said that Olivia was the nicest, sweetest most loving person he had ever met and she could never ever do such a horrific thing. The other side of him told him to look at the compelling evidence.
The telephone rang, startling him. He jumped. On the third ring, he picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Elliot," Cragen said. Elliot thought he sounded a little out of breath, which concerned him.
"Captain, is everything okay?"
"Meet me at Bellevue Hospital."
"Captain? Captain!" But it was too late. The line was dead. Cragen was gone. Elliot blinked a moment and then rushed to put on some clothes. He stuck a note on the refrigerator door, explaining his situation to the kids. He knew they would understand.
Elliot didn't remember the drive over, only that he was worried sick.
"Captain," he gasped, running in. "What's going on?"
"It's Olivia," Cragen said. "She started seizing and was rushed to the hospital. Her breathing and heart stopped on the way and went into cardiac arrest. They've brought her back but she's on life support and being prepped to pump her stomach."
"Oh, jeeze," Elliot breathed. "Suicide?"
"They don't think so."
"Someone tried to kill Olivia." Elliot tested the words on his tongue…they didn't seem right. But Cragen shook his head 'yes' and went to catch up with the doctor, leaving Elliot as stunned as ever.