Amanda had always prided herself on her ability to control situations. Self-control was something she needed, something she was happy to have. She needed to know that she was always in control. Even when she wasn't. She vaguely remembered the first time she played her first game of blackjack, but she remembered vividly just how happy it made her feel. The rush. The excitement. The thrill. At times she hated herself for doing it. But the guilt wasn't enough to stop her. And the disconnection notices weren't enough either. Or the eviction notices.
Three summers ago Amanda had hit rock bottom. She was new to the Manhattan Special Victims Unit, and stressed. Stressed beyond words. She had only hoped that the change in scenery would change her luck, but it didn't. And within two months of living in the city she found herself $20,000 in debt with a bookie.
If only her job wasn't so stressful, she wouldn't have to resort to gambling.
It was easy to blame the gambling on her job.
Maybe it really was her job.
She honestly didn't know.
One thing Amanda did know was what she was getting herself into when she transferred from Atlanta Georgia to New York City. She had heard the stories. She knew the facts; that the average life of a sex crimes detective was two years. But that didn't stop her. She loved the challenge, the risk.
Until recently working at Manhattan SVU had been enough of a thrill for her. She didn't need to gamble. She had been regularly attending Gamblers Anonymous meetings. She was making progress.
That of course was before her entire personal life was revealed on stand at Lena's trial.
She had only hoped Barba would have held out on such personal questions.
The entire thing proved to be too much for her. And like always, gambling had been the only comfort she had found.
Unfortunately the thrill she had always loved about it was gone. Now she was merely gambling just to help keep her mind of things. Because if time stopped, even for a second. She would remember all the shitty things that had been happening to her recently.
How everyone in the squad, aside from Cragen absolutely hated her. She wasn't even sure if her own partner still cared about her.
If he didn't, she wouldn't blame him. She knew he would hate her even more once he found of what she was doing.
If he ever found out.
No one could find out what Amanda was doing, she would lose her job.
Because bribery would land Amanda a minimum of ten years in federal prison. But like always that risk didn't stop her, because she loved the thrill gambling gave her. Enough to get herself in deep with a bookie. $250,000 deep.
So last night when Fin called Amanda telling her Richard Myers, the bookie she was in deep with, had in fact helped cover up the rape and murder of a seventeen year old foreign exchange student. She was more than happy to offer him a deal. A deal that would satisfy them both. One that would save his ass, and hers.
"I can get you off." Amanda said quietly into the receiver of her phone. Hoping no one could hear her.
A call this personal shouldn't have been answered at work. But Richard was still at Rikers and he had no choice but to use his one call to see if Amanda's offer was still on the table.
"How?" Richard asked. His voice firm. He was an older man, in his early fifties. Yet he had still managed to harass and kill anyone who owed him money. He grew up poor and was determined not to die the same way.
"You're looking at five years easy. Our medical examiner places the time of death somewhere between 12 and 2:30 am. We also have you on tape at 1:30 with Steven getting into your Lamborghini with a body in a bag," Amanda chuckled softly, "You could have been a little more discreet." She looked around casually, walking into an empty interrogation room and closing the door. "Look, I really can't talk about this now."
"You've told me the case you have against me, this I already knew. How are you going to get me off?" His patience was thinning, it was obvious. Had it been any other girl who owned him that much money and didn't pay up. They'd be dead within a week.
"If that tape were to magically disappear, you'd be free to go. All charges would be dropped." Destroying evidence. It was the only move Amanda had left. She was disgusted in herself, but she didn't want to die. Death wasn't something she was ready to face, not at thirty-three. Having to answer to some God she wasn't even sure she fully believed in was scary enough. "I'm really the only choice you have." Amanda spoke firmly, trying her best to intimidate the old man into taking her bait.
"I trust you Amanda." He paused before continuing. "Don't make me regret trusting you."
No longer was the sound of Richards intimidating voice that filled Amanda's ears, but the sound of the phone's dial tone. He had hung up her. Getting the little information he needed and discarding of their conversation so easily. It infuriated Amanda. Richard didn't understand just how much trouble she would get in for what she was doing, or maybe he did and just didn't care. Because he cared more about saving his own ass, than Amanda's.
They both had ulterior motives, only wanting to help one another out merely because it benefited them both in the long run.
Amanda had never felt as sickly as she did at that moment. It was official. She couldn't go back now.
Now she understood how cops could become crooked.