See chapter one for disclaimer.


Chapter Four

Alexandra felt refreshed when her alarm went off at six. She showered quickly, deciding to grab coffee on the way. She wanted to be early. For some reason, she felt the need to beat Olivia Benson to work.

It was a sunny morning and warm for March. Of course, that was relative. March in Dallas was either hinting at summer or hanging on to winter. Spring lasted but a few weeks.

She was early enough to beat traffic and she stopped at a coffeehouse on the corner of Commerce and Oakland. She eyed the pastries before deciding on a croissant. Ham and cheese filled, but still better than a pastry, she reasoned. She ate while she drove the two blocks to the station. She was early. The lot was only half full.

But her good mood vanished when she saw Olivia Benson sitting at her desk, phone already tucked on her shoulder. The same as it was when she'd left last evening. Damn, did the woman even go home?

"Morning," she said.

"Uh-huh." Olivia glanced up briefly, then away. "It's Benson. I want to go over the lab reports. I'll be down in a half-hour." A pause. "Yes, I know what time it is. Do you?" She hung up. "Idiots."

"Well, off to another fine start," Alexandra murmured. She pulled out her chair and sat looking at her new partner, wondering what was on the agenda today. The lab reports, obviously. She'd left after five and they hadn't received them yet. Apparently, Olivia had gotten her hands on them somehow.

"Seems our girl was busy before she died. Four different semen types," Olivia said.

"When did you get the report?"

"Last night," she said absently. "You want to come or do you want to stay here and settle in?"

Alexandra waited until Olivia Benson looked up.

"Are you always this difficult to work with?"

"Yes."

"No wonder Kaplan jumped. He was probably wishing it was four stories instead of two."

"Very funny. Are you coming?"

"Yes, Benson, I'm coming. Christ, did you even go home?"

"No."

"Did you sleep?"

Olivia turned and faced Alexandra.

"Whether I slept or not and where is none of your business." She turned and left without another word.

"Lovely. I've landed in hell."

The trip to the lab was made in silence and Alexandra kept her hands locked together in her lap, staring straight ahead as they crept along in traffic. Couldn't wait a half-hour and let the traffic die, no. Had to leave right then. Had to have us stuck together in this god-damn car.

"So, do your friends call you Alex?"

"Excuse me?" It was the first words they had spoken since they left the squad room.

"Alex? Do they call you that?"

"Not if they expect me to answer them," Alexandra said.

Olivia nodded. "Alex it is, then."

"No. I detest that name."

"Sorry. Alexandra is just to . . . formal."

"Formal? It's my name."

"I like Alex better," Olivia said.

"Well, I don't. I forbid you to call me Alex."

"Forbid?" Olivia laughed. "You're not serious, are you?"

I hate her.

It seemed like hours later before they walked into the lab. Alexandra noticed that no one greeted them. In fact, they avoided them. Great. I'm partnered with a psycho whom no one can stand. She thought it was amazing that Benson got any cooperation at all in the department.

"Jackson. Good morning," Olivia said, walking up to an older man and touching hands with him briefly. "This is Alex Cabot, my new partner," she said, motioning to Alexandra.

"It's Alexandra," she said through clenched teeth as she shook the doctor's hand.

"Nice to meet you, Detective. I'm Arthur Jackson." He took a stick of gum from his lab coat and folded it into thirds before sticking it into his mouth "My staff tells me you've been badgering them, Benson. What's the problem?"

"No problem. Just six hours late on lab reports," she said. "I got impatient."

He laughed. "You get impatient when we're an hour late. I can't imagine your attitude after six." He walked down the hall and they followed. "Your Jane Doe was a popular gal, Detective. I'm guessing she's sixteen, maybe seventeen. Hard to tell. Life on the street ages you quickly."

"Her street name was Lorraine," Olivia said. "She's fairly new on the streets, they tell me."

Alexandra stared, wondering how in the world Olivia had gotten this information. And why the hell hadn't she told her.

"I'm going to guess she's from New Orleans," Dr. Jackson said. "She has a tattoo on her right arm. Mardi Gras type of thing. We traced it. Some sort of gang symbol down there. Sara's running a report for you."

"Thanks. Now, what about the semen?"

Dr. Jackson held the door open to his office and they preceded him, each taking a seat in front of his desk.

"Four types. You'd think they'd be smart enough to use condoms." He flipped open a file on his desk. "Two were from semen in the rectum. The only sign of violence was strangulation. No recent bruises. There were two old fractures. Wrist and tibia. That's it."

"You run the semen through? No DNA matches?"

"None."

"Drugs?"

"Clean."

"Not much to go on, Doc."

"No. There's not."

Alexandra sat and listened to their exchange, still seething because Olivia apparently had been working last night while she was sleeping peacefully in her bed.

Olivia's cell phone interrupted her thoughts. She watched as Olivia pulled it off the clip on her jeans.

"Benson."

"God another hooker. Dumpster over in Central."

Alexandra saw the frown, the tightening of lips.

"Great. Thanks, Fisk." Olivia looked briefly at Alexandra, then folded her cell phone. "Got another body, Jackson." She stood, then turned back. "I'm looking for a semen match."

Alexandra hurried after Olivia as she nearly ran down the hallway. She hated not knowing what the hell was going on. When they were on the road again, Alexandra turned to her.

"What's up?"

"They found another body."

"Yes. I heard. Thank you. But I want to know what's going on," she said.

Olivia shrugged. "You know as much as I do."

"Bullshit! How do you know her street name was Lorraine?"

"I asked."

"You asked who?"

"Hookers."

"Goddamn it, Benson! I'm supposed to be your partner. Not some puppy dog that just follows you around during daylight hours and goes home. If you were going out last night, why didn't you tell me? I could have gone with you."

"You'd already put in nine hours, Detective. You were tired. You have a boyfriend waiting. There was no reason for you to hang around the back alleys at midnight asking about a dead hooker."

"What the hell does that have to do with anything? If you're working, I should be working. You could have at least asked me," she said.

"I work at odd hours. I doubt you'd be able to keep up," Olivia said lightly.

"Try me," Alexandra challenged. "You're not going to run me off, Benson. So unless you shoot me or push me out of a two-story building, I'm going to be here. I want to be here." God, did I just say that?

"Why do you think I'm trying to run you off?"

Alexandra stared at her. "You're hardly been friendly. Hell, you've barely been tolerable. You don't share shit with me. You go off on your own like some cowboy. Do you even know what the word partner means?"

"Look, this is my case. I've been on my own for two months since Kaplan . . . fell." She nearly laughed. She could still picture him dangling from the railing, yelling for her to wait.

"Well, this is our case now and why the hell are you smiling?"

"He was twenty pounds overweight. I told him to go down and take the stairs," she said. "But he couldn't let me win. Couldn't let me catch the guy without him."

"So he jumped?"

"Jumped? No, he tried to hang himself from the fire escape," she said. "He was up there doing chin-ups, trying to climb back up."

Alexandra didn't know Kaplan, but the visual she got made her smile.

"So, where are we going?"

"Central. Why don't you call Fisk and get the address."

Twenty minutes later, they were in the downtown warehouse district. Alexandra recognized one of the uniformed men from her days at Central. Paul Stanton. He'd asked her out nearly once a week for the first year.

"Hey, Paul, how's it going?"

"Alexandra? What are you doing here? I thought you were with Assault."

"I'm with Homicide now. Did you find her?"

"No. Someone called it in. By the time we got here, there was already a crowd. Got a woman over there that can identify her," he said, pointing to an elderly lady talking to another officer.

"Thanks, Paul."

Olivia watched the exchange silently, noting the friendly smile Alexandra gave Stanton. Well, they definitely had different methods. She nodded as Alex headed off. She went in the opposite direction, to the Dumpster.

"What do we have?" she asked as she peered inside.

"What you see is what you get, Benson."

Olivia glanced up quickly, then took a step forward. "I see what I see. I asked what you had?" she said quietly, her piercing stare pinning him in place.

"Working girl, most likely. Teenager. Dumped last night, probably. The guy in the bookstore found her when he was taking out trash."

"Why do you think she was dumped last night?"

He shrugged.

"Who's here from the Medical Examiner?

"Spencer."

"Where is she?"

"Back in the van," he said.

Olivia walked over to the van and knocked once on the outside panel. The back door swung open and Rita Spencer stepped out. Their eyes met and there was an uncomfortable silence. There was always an uncomfortable silence, ever since the one night they'd spent together nearly a year ago. Olivia shoved her hands in her pockets and waited for Rita to speak.

"Figured this was your case, Benson. Sara said you'd been raising hell at the lab yesterday over the other one."

Olivia nodded. "How are you?"

"Great. You?"

"Wonderful," Olivia said dryly. "What you got?"

"Appears to be the same MO. The only bruising I can see is around the neck. We'll have to wait until we open her up, of course. But I'd say you've got a serial."

"Yeah. Wonderful."

Rita motioned with her head to Alexandra as she walked toward them. "Who's your partner?"

Olivia waited just a second until Alexandra joined them. "Alex Cabot. Rita Spencer," she said.

"It's Alexandra," she said, shaking hands with the other woman. "Same as before?"

"Most likely."

Alexandra nodded, then looked at Olivia. "Mrs. Perez says her name is Crystal. Says she comes into the bakery every morning when they open. Seven," she said in response to Olivia's raised eyebrows. "She doesn't know where she lives. She walks north when she leaves."

Olivia nodded. They had nothing. Well, except the face that the girl wasn't dumped last night. Olivia had seen her at one. She turned without a word and walked away.

To Be Continued...