Thanks for all the reviews! I decided to continue this one, so enjoy!

Elliot stared at me. "Are you sure?"

I nodded as fear filled my head. What had Alex gotten herself into? I pulled out the newspaper Elliot had given to me and pointed it out to him. "See, Robert Durham. Wall Street."

Elliot raised his eyebrows. "Wow. Okay, let's go pay this guy a visit."

We got in the car and drove to the Durham house – excuse me, the Durham mansion. Alex's family had always had money, but this house was absolutely gigantic.

Elliot and I exchanged glances, then we started up the path toward the front door. I knocked, and to my surprise, Alex Cabot opened the door.

The shock registered on her face when she saw me. "Olivia," she murmured, her huge blue eyes darting up to meet mine. Then she noticed Elliot. "Elliot." To her credit, she recovered relatively quickly and asked with an edge to her voice, "What are you doing here?"

"We're –" I began, but I was interrupted by a tall man with dark hair walking toward us.

He rested his hands on Alex's shoulders and I narrowed my eyes when I saw her flinch at the touch. "Who is it, honey?" he asked, kissing her shoulder blade.

"Police," I snapped, flashing my badge. "Mr. Durham, I'm Detective Benson and this is my partner, Detective Stabler. We'd like to talk to you. Can we come in?"

He hesitated. "What's this about?"

"Lenia Walsh," said Elliot sharply. "We can talk here, or we can bring you down to our precinct. Your choice."

He paused for a split second before smiling, a phony smile that didn't meet his eyes. "Come on in," he invited us.

I followed him inside, Elliot at my heels. The mansion was immaculate with tasteful décor, but there was nothing really personal about it. Sure, there were lots of expensive material possessions, but there wasn't one photograph in sight.

He led us to the family room and we gingerly sat down on the couch, trying not to disturb the cushions. Robert looked expectantly at Alex. "Go get the detectives something to drink," he ordered.

I leaned forward and stared at him, appalled at the way that he was treating her but even more appalled at the way she immediately lowered her eyes and scurried out of the room. This wasn't the Alex I knew. It had been awhile, but the old Alex would never let a man order her around like that. "We don't want anything," I snapped, then took a moment to calm myself down. I was furious at the way Robert was treating my friend – well, my former friend, but still. "Where were you on Tuesday night, around eleven?" I fired at him, unclenching my fists.

Alex came back into the living room a moment later. She handed Elliot and I each a glass of water and stood beside Robert. No, she didn't sit beside him on the couch; she stood beside him with her eyes lowered.

I took a good look at her then, and was concerned to find fading, finger-shaped bruises on the base of her neck. I recognized them for what they were and my heart constricted. I bit my lip to stop myself from asking her about them. She was my friend, but we were here for a reason and that wasn't to rekindle our friendship with Alex. It was to potentially solve a murder. So I crossed my arms over my chest and forced myself to tear my eyes away from Alex. "So Mr. Durham. Where were you on Tuesday night?"

He raised his eyebrows, then took Alex's shoulders and guided her onto the couch beside him, wrapping his arms around her. I noticed the slight trembling of her shoulders and she kept her eyes downcast. I made a mental note to get her alone after we were done with this little talk. We had a little talk of our own that we needed to have, because this wasn't the Alex I knew. Where had the old Alex gone?

Robert cleared his throat. "I was here. Right here, watching the Yankees game."

"Who won?" asked Elliot sharply.

Robert laughed. "Obviously not them."

"Who were they playing against?"

"The Red Sox."

I was only half listening to him. I was watching Alex, who was clearly trying not to cringe as Robert massaged her shoulders. I forced myself to meet Robert's eyes. "Do you know Lenia Walsh?"

He nodded. "I work with her. Why?"

"She's dead," I informed him. "Do you know anything about it?"

He sighed and gave Alex a squeeze. She started to tremble, but then her body stilled, and she looked up at him. He held her gaze for a moment, then turned back to us. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this."

"It wouldn't come to what?" I could hardly keep the contempt from my voice.

He looked back at Alex. "Tell them what you did, Alexandra," he said, and though it was meant as an encouragement, it sounded more like a command.

She looked at the ground, then forced herself to look back up and meet my eyes. Her voice was so soft that it was barely audible, and it shook as she murmured, "I killed her."

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