Chapter 2

"Hey, Liv, I thought you were off today?" Munch asked when Olivia entered the squadroom.

Olivia just shrugged and draped her coat over the chair at her desk. Elliot was sitting at his own desk across from her. "What happened to your day off?" He asked, looking up at her.

"I need to look into something." She carefully avoided his gaze as she started up her computer and started searching through various databases. Navigating her way through complicated records was a breeze, and it didn't take long for her to find what she was looking for.

Alicia Cadot used to live in Dieppe, a beautiful town in northern France right next to the ocean, with her husband Antoine Cadot. They were divorced six and a half years ago, which meant either Alicia was pregnant when it happened or her youngest son wasn't Antoine's. Olivia suspected an affair was probably the cause of the divorce, just based on the timeline. She dug a little deeper and found the names and birthdays of Alicia's children; Evangeline Cadot, now 16, and Etienne Cadot, soon to be six. His birthday coincided with the divorce, as Olivia suspected, and according to his birth certificate his father's name was Victor Delamotte.

Olivia jotted down a few notes, including Etienne's upcoming birthday, and continued her search. Alicia had a dual citizenship because her father was originally from the U.S. and had moved to France at a young age, where he met her mother. She had moved to New York only four months ago, with her son, who had also been granted dual citizenship because of his mother, and because he had been born in Chicago. Olivia couldn't find any record of where Evangeline was living, but she doubted it was with Alicia because she was emancipated at the age of fifteen. There were no allegations of abuse against Alicia, Antoine or Victor, but that meant little in Olivia's mind.

"Need some help with something?" Elliot asked when he had finished the report he was working on and saw Olivia copying out more information.

Olivia looked up at him. He had been her partner for a decade, and she trusted him with her life, but she wasn't sure how much she could tell him about her suspicions. Finally she sighed and shook her head. "It's nothing, I'm probably just overreacting."

Olivia continued to dig, trying to find an address for Evangeline, but without success. Finally she gave up and started searching for Victor's information, which turned out to be much easier to find; he was still in France. To finish off her search, Olivia found Alicia's work schedule. It really was erratic, but Olivia suspected she spent a lot of time out with friends even after work. After writing down when she would be away, she shut off the computer. Alicia wouldn't be working again until tomorrow, but until then there was still a missing piece of information that was driving Olivia crazy.

"Should I tell Cap you were here?" Elliot asked.

"Don't bother. I'll see you tomorrow." They both gave quick waves and then Olivia was out the door, heading to Computer Crimes.

"Hey, Liv, what brings you back here?" Morales greets her. He is sitting behind his usual array of various technical equipment.

"I need to find someone. Evangeline Cadot, I can't find a record of her after the age of 15. She's probably not even in the country but I need to make sure."

Morales nodded and plugged the information into his computer. "You think she had something to do with a case?"

"She might have some important information if she's here."

"Says here she was emancipated. Court records say she's living with her grandparents…in Queens. Here's the address." He wrote it down on a slip of paper and handed it to Olivia.

"Great, thanks." Olivia wasn't exactly sure why she wanted to address, or what she was going to do now that she had it. Did she really think Etienne was being abused? Being left home alone, especially at night in New York, was something Olivia intended to stop. But maybe his mother was just having a hard time adjusting, maybe there were extenuating circumstances Olivia just couldn't see. And that dark spot on Etienne's back didn't mean anything, either. It had been dark in the hallway, and Olivia had been far away. The spot could have been no more than a trick of the light, or even something imagined by Olivia's already suspicious mind. She had worked so long with dysfunctional families and abusing parents that she didn't know what a good parent really looked like anymore.

Still, Evangeline's emancipation was bothering Olivia. Why would she want to be on her own at such a young age unless there was something seriously wrong at home? Under other circumstances, Olivia might consider the option that Evangeline was just a stubbornly independent teenager, but the fact that she had gone to live with her grandparents made her think otherwise; Morales's records showed Evangeline had gone to live with her grandparents right after the emancipation. Which meant she didn't want to live on her own and be an adult, she only wanted to sever all ties with her mother.

Olivia had originally intended to go back to her apartment and attempt to sleep, but instead of giving her own address to the cab driver she found herself headed to her favourite little bistro. She was starving after hours of not eating, and the little restaurant made the best food in New York as far as Olivia was concerned. The waitresses and even the chef had become friends of hers over the years, and she always got discounted meals, which made the place that much more appealing. Normally Olivia ate their when she wanted to be alone, because it was the only place in New York she could actually walk into and see familiar faces. The waitresses made polite conversation and cheered her up when she really needed it, and by the end of her meal she realized she had never really wanted to be alone, after all. Now she walked in and was greeted by the last person she expected to see.

Gracen was a photographer from Ireland who had moved to New York in pursuit of his career. He had lived in the U.S. for decades, and had even confessed to Olivia that he had perfected his American accent years ago, but he spoke as if he had never left Ireland because he refused to let anyone think he was an American. Not that he didn't love the country, he just didn't want people to think he was anything he wasn't. The fact that it drove Olivia wild was just an added bonus.

They had dated only twice so far because Olivia had cancelled four times. This last time he had sounded really upset on the phone, and Olivia was sure she would never hear from him again. When she saw him smiling and waving her over to sit with him, she decided maybe he wasn't so upset anymore. Gracen had dirty blond hair that he let grow into a thick shag. Normally Olivia didn't like long hair on men, but it suited Gracen perfectly, and she thought she might shoot him if he ever cut it off. His eyes were a deep green that could see every detail around him, and the potential beauty in those details; he could even take pictures of Olivia she liked, which she considered an exceptional talent, since she had always hated pictures. He had a cocky confidence that drew people naturally towards him, but he wasn't arrogant; when he was wrong, he accepted it and didn't argue. In fact, she couldn't remember ever seeing him get angry. This, more than anything, is what drew Olivia to him after years of dealing with Elliot's quick and violent temper.

"Olli, over here. Take a seat." Olivia had never been called anything other than 'Olivia' or 'Liv' before, so when Gracen had started calling her Olli it had taken time to adjust. Now she loved the nickname, and the fact that Gracen was the only one who used it made it extra special. She really wanted their relationship to work, but so far they had had little success.

"I didn't know you ate here," she said, sitting down.

"I come here from time to time to get away from it all. It's a lovely little place. D'you come here often?" He was sipping a glass of ice water and Olivia suspected he was waiting for his order.

"Hey, it's New York's finest! You lookin' for ma's special or you want something different today?" One of the waitresses, Sylvia, asked when she saw Olivia. She was the daughter of Sophia, the bistro's owner.

"Guess that's a yes," Gracen said under his breath, smiling. Olivia ordered a plate of spaghetti with Sophia's mouth-watering tomato sauce, a.k.a. 'ma's special' and a glass of water.

"Wasn't planning on a spontaneous date, but I'll take what I can get." He reached across the table and took Olivia's hand in his; she didn't protest.

"You're in luck. I'm off work until tomorrow afternoon."

"Well, well, what are we gonna do with all this free time?" He winked and smiled.

"Let's start with dinner and see what happens." Gracen often pretended like he wanted nothing more than to get Olivia into bed (and maybe he did), but on both of their dates he had been invited up to her apartment, and both times he had left after having wine and a long conversation with Olivia. Oddly, though, she hadn't felt rejected, and she was sure he hadn't meant it that way. She actually appreciated the contrast to most men she dated; usually she had sex with them by the second date because she doubted the relationship would last much longer than that.

They ate their meal and then stayed in their booth until darkness fell. Gracen continued to hold her hand the whole time, playing with her fingers absentmindedly while they talked. Finally Sophia came out to break their trance and they realized there was no one left in the restaurant. "You know I love you, Olivia, and we appreciate everything you do for this city, but we gotta go home sometime."

Sophia smiled and Olivia returned it. "Sorry, Sophia, I didn't realize it was so late. Have a good night."

"You too." She winked and hugged Olivia goodnight before she and Gracen left.

"Where do you wanna go now?" Gracen asked. He was still holding Olivia's hand, swinging it gently back and forth as they walked.

"I thought you didn't have any food or alcohol at your apartment?"

"Well that settles it then, we're goin' to your flat."

"I don't have any, either."

"Alright, we're goin' to the store, then your flat."

"Decades in America and you still call it a flat?"

"Haven't we been over this? I still tell people they have cheese on their face." Olivia looked at him, confused. He laughed. "Cheese on your face means your fly's open."

"Ah." Olivia was still adjusting to the strange words and phrases Gracen sometimes used. The amount of Dublin slang he used depended on who he was talking to and what he was talking about. With Olivia, it crept into his vocabulary more and more often. It didn't bother her, though; nothing was sexier than an accent on a guy, in Olivia's opinion. Not that Gracen really needed that little bonus, but Olivia wasn't about to question her good fortune. 'It won't last long anyway,' she though sadly.