The door creaked softly in the semi-darkness and Olivia stopped, waiting for the noise to cease. When it had, she let the door swing closed with a tiny click. Letting out a tiny sigh of relief, Olivia hung her jacket on the coat rack and stepped around the couch, intending to sit and relax for a few minutes. The blonde curled up there caught her by surprise and she cleared her throat quietly. "Em?"
Emma sat up, muting the already dulled television. "Hi," she said, clearing her throat after hearing how dusky her voice was. "Did you just get off?"
"Yeah. I had to stay late and finish paperwork." She patted Emma's feet to scoot them off one side of the couch. Sinking down, Olivia stole half of the afghan covering Emma's legs for her own lap. "It's freezing in here. Don't the Cabots believe in heat?"
"I don't," Emma kidded, reaching behind her and kicking the heating unit on. "Poor Allie's in there in her flannel pajamas, under three blankets and a down comforter. But she wouldn't argue with me when I told her it felt like Miami in here. I love being spoiled." She smiled weakly at Olivia, her teasing tone and fallen, bruised face testimony to the awakening she'd been forced to swallow.
Smiling sympathetically, Olivia reached out and cupped Emma's cheek, before letting her hand fall away. "Still hurts, huh?"
"For a while there, Alex and I had matching war wounds." Emma shrugged, looking out her sister's window momentarily. "The inside hurts more than the outside. But you knew that."
"Yeah. Did I ever tell you about Jacob?"
Emma shook her head slowly. "I don't think so."
"Jacob was the love of my life - before Alex," Olivia teased with a wide grin. It faded, as she continued, "We were together for a long time, and I thought he was everything I ever wanted in a partner. He was thoughtful, gentle...well, you get the picture." The detective's features hardened into an icy mask. "Then one day, I woke up and he was gone. I figured he was out for a run, but he didn't come back for breakfast. He didn't come back at all." Olivia could barely raise her eyes to Emma's, allowing all the pain of that memory to rise to the surface. "He just picked up and left. I got a call three days later from his insurance agent, wanting to know where to send his refund check. He'd cancelled his life, car, renter's - everything. He just packed up and left. I still don't know why, or where he went, or if he's even still alive." Unshed angry tears floated in bourbon-colored pools.
"Oh, my God." For all the anger and all the blame she'd felt towards Olivia over the past week, for all the time she'd spent convincing herself that if Olivia had just done her job, none of this would be happening now, Emma was compelled to scoot closer to Olivia and wrap a sturdy arm around the once impenetrable detective. "So you know what it's like to think you know someone and have them turn into a monster."
"I really do." Olivia turned in Emma's arms and hugged the blonde as tight as she could without hurting her. "And I'm so sorry. I know you blame me, you have a perfect right to." Her voice was calm, not betraying the turmoil inside.
"It's okay," Emma whispered, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Olivia's back, not unlike the movement her sister had perfected during many sleepless nights. "I've been talking with Alex a lot, and with that Huang guy. He's a trip and a half, you know?" Emma felt Olivia chuckle against her shoulder, and Emma leaned back. "I don't blame you. I mean, that was my initial reaction, to lash out at you and Allie; you were the ones destroying my perfect future. But you didn't plot to kidnap me, you know? There were things you could have done, yeah; but all of us have those things lingering in hindsight. What matters now is that you're doing all you can to keep me safe. And I really do appreciate that."
Nodding in appreciation, Olivia squeezed Emma's hand in a familiar gesture of solidarity. "You're not half bad, for a kid," she teased.
Emma pursed her lips and shrugged playfully. "I know." She rose from the couch, moving into her sister's tiny kitchen and preparing to make herself a cup of tea. "Do you want anything?"
"Decaf if you would."
"Sure." Emma fished around in Alex's cabinets and put Olivia's coffee on. "Did Alex tell you I'm filing for a civil restraining order in the morning?"
"No, but I was hoping you would." Olivia followed Emma into the kitchen, swiping at her wet eyes.
Emma nodded, handing Olivia the milk for her coffee. "I have to have a temporary one for a couple of weeks, and then we'll go back into court for the year-long one. I'm hoping he's in jail by then so he can't contest it, or the divorce petition."
"Em...." Olivia slid her arms around Emma's waist gently and hugged her, well below her broken ribs so as not to cause more damage. "I'm really sorry you have to go through all this. I told Alex, I wish I could just...end it."
Emma stopped her movements and covered Olivia's hand with hers briefly. "I know," she replied quietly. "I do, too."
"Am I interrupting a moment?"
Alex's dazed voice caused Emma to chuckle. "Yeah, Cabot, a real moment. I'm so broken-hearted that I'm stealing your girlfriend as my rebound guy." Emma looked back up at Olivia, with amused eyes for the first time in what seemed like ages. "No offense."
"Some taken," Olivia scoffed, backing away with a mock-pout. "Who wouldn't want me as a rebound?"
Alex smiled sleepily, adjusting the sleeves of her flannel pajamas. "I think I'm too tired to answer that diplomatically. I just heard banging and wanted to make sure everything was okay."
Emma nodded sympathetically. "Sorry, Allie."
"It's fine." Alex brushed her hand against Olivia's. "How are you?"
"Good." Olivia slid her arm around Alex's waist. "I just got in late, and we were gonna have a drink together." She leaned over, pressing a kiss to the side of Alex's neck, bared by her mishap of a ponytail. "Sorry I haven't been around lately."
Alex nodded, nuzzling Olivia's face with her cheek as she did so. "You forget I know you," she teased. "It's okay." She cleared her throat and offered a sleepy smile to the women in front of her. "I'll leave you to your drinks. I have a summation in the morning to dream about."
"Night, Al," Emma said softly, lifting the kettle off the burner gingerly.
"Hey, Em, you mind if I take a rain check on that drink?" Olivia apologized softly. "I...uhm..." She gestured toward the space Alex had left. "You know."
Emma's grin lifted the twenty years she'd aged right off her chest. "Have fun."
Laughing
softly, Olivia shook her head and disappeared into the bedroom.
* * *
"I didn't see Olivia leave this morning," Emma commented, leaning gingerly against the door to her sister's room.
Alex applied the last of her lipstick and ran the brush one last time through her hair before answering. "She was out by six-fifteen or so. I doubt you heard her, over your snoring symphony."
Emma shook her head. "Again, with the alleged snoring."
Alex stepped back and eyed her sister. "They could hear you in Hoboken." Emma handed her sister a travel mug of coffee, and Alex took a grateful sip. "You'll call me at lunch?"
"As always," Emma promised. "You hooked up the fax?"
Alex nodded. "Your own personal office, in my living room." She gave her sister a quick kiss before heading out and securing the deadbolt behind her. Emma's broken ribs, while stabilized, still threatened to puncture a lung if she moved around too much, so traveling to work was out of the question. Emma, instead, spent her days sketching, faxing and watching 'The View'.
Alex couldn't quite contain a shiver as she descended into the New York morning, and she pulled her wool coat a little tighter around her. She walked down the block to the nearest major intersection and tried to hail a cab, quite a task during rush hour on a Friday morning. She kept her hand continuously raised, even as she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, giving voice to a tried and true cliché. Something was off, and she could feel it. She looked around her, but saw nothing. Finally, a cab screeched to a halt in front of her and she got in, still looking for anything out of the ordinary.
The green eyes followed Alex as she climbed into the cab. He slid into the next cab, knowing her destination well. Going by his established routine, he got out of the cab a block away and followed Alex up to the front of the building, where he let her disappear inside. He wondered if she had seen him. Not today, he decided. Perhaps tomorrow she'd spot him. He patted his pocket, where the note lay hidden. He'd better stop at the post office on the way back to the police station. He had a busy day planned, mustn't waste a minute.
* * *
"Mail call, Alex." Her assistant dropped a few envelopes on Alex's desk, and Alex offered a slight, distracted smile as she pursed her lips in thought, poring over her legal pad and summation. After a minute of staring at the page, she leaned back and grabbed her mail for a distraction. The first was an invitation to some law function; she'd have to think up another excuse to get out of that one. The second one, however, stopped her heart.
You think you control the sun, the moon, the stars. You forget she is my universe. I had the power to create her, and I have the power to destroy her. One misstep, one false hope, one wrong move, and she will cry again. Only this time, it will be over you.
Alex dropped the letter on her desk as if it burned her fingers, and her other hand reached immediately for the phone. "Em, are you all right?"
Her sister's tone was surprised. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"
"No reason. Just checking in. I'll see you later, okay?" Alex hung up the receiver and called her assistant back into the office. "Michelle, I need two sandwich bags, and latex gloves." At Michelle's puzzled glance, Alex shook her head sharply. "Do it."
Michelle returned with the requested items shortly after, and handed them to a pale Alex. The ADA bounded out of the office, heading straight for the SVU squad room. She collected herself enough to nod good morning to Fin, but set her sights on Olivia.
Glancing up, Olivia stood and met Alex halfway through the room. "What'd he do?"
Wordlessly, Alex held out the two plastic bags. "Mail call, this morning. Postmarked two days ago."
"Shit." Olivia glanced them over, calling for Elliot as she did. Handing the items over, she said, "Take 'em to trace for me. I've gotta get back to Alex's place."
"Liv, Emma's got a twenty-four hour guard," Elliot protested. "Mark hasn't made a move on her in nearly a week; we have other cases that need our attention."
"He's right," Alex agreed quietly. "I doubt you'll find anything on there, anyway. He's got that part of his MO down pat. I already checked in with Emma; she's fine. I just wanted to pass it along to you."
Sighing, Olivia nodded as Elliot headed out to the CSU's offices. "I wish I could do more. And I really wish I had someplace else for Emma to stay, someplace Mark didn't know about."
"Does he know where you live?" Alex asked. "We can get her out of the building through the parking garage, set up a decoy or two to confuse him."
Olivia nodded slowly. "Good idea. Munch!"
Eagerly looking up from crime scene photos, Munch adjusted his eyeglasses. "You rang?"
"Emma needs an escort from Alex's apartment to mine. Mark seems to be growing a set."
"You got it." Munch rose from his seat and headed out immediately, while Alex watched, amused but touched. She turned back to Olivia and offered a small smile. "You understand that having her crash at your place qualifies you for sainthood."
"Nah, just paying my dues." The guilt was still haunting Olivia, and it would continue to.
Alex squeezed her hand discreetly and then motioned back outside. "I have to get back. I'll call Em and let her know Munch is on his way. Do you want me to stop by after work?"
"Yeah. I'm sure Emma'd love to see you." Olivia smiled, releasing Alex's hand. "Whose turn for dinner?"
"Mine, I think. Preferences?" Even in the darkest of times, they could still rely on their easy camaraderie to guide them.
"Chinese or KFC," Olivia opted. "I'm gonna get on Trace's ass while Munch is with Emma."
"Okay." Alex headed back to her office, dialing Emma as she went, informing her sister of the change of plans.
* * *
Elliot looked up from next to the lab tech as Olivia entered the sterile space. "Ken here was going to enlighten us about your mysterious message."
Ken offered a perfect smile; many of the techs had a little thing for Detective Benson. "Your perp slipped up," he informed proudly.
"Really?" Olivia didn't even attempt to flirt; her mind was too wrapped up in catching Mark in the act, to the exclusion of even her active cases.
"Underside of the flap, we've got at least a three-point match. I'm using ninhydrine to see if I can flush out more."
"Super glue? Welcome to the '70s, Ken," Elliot joked.
Ken just shook his head. "If it works, it works. There's still at least twenty minutes left on the sample before the dye will attach. You want me to call you when it's done?"
"Yeah." Olivia reached for a scrap of paper and scribbled her cell number. "The second you get anything else."
"You want me to run IAFIS before or after I call you?" Ken asked, pocketing the paper.
"Before. Gimme a name, Ken." Olivia flashed him a smile. "Good work," she added, rubbing his shoulder before heading out.
True to his word, Ken called twenty minutes and fifteen seconds later. "Got a hit. Michael William Bradley, formerly of Hartford, Connecticut, has a five point match to the fingerprint I pulled from your envelope."
Olivia dropped her sandwich as one eyebrow went up in surprise. "Michael Bradley? Any aliases?" she asked immediately.
"Not according to the system, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have any on file. When they switched to IAIFIS from AIFIS, they did so without transferring all the nooks and crannies of the old system. So I'd call Hartford PD and see where you can get with them."
"Ken, you're a gem. Remind me to recommend you for a raise." Olivia hung up and was on the phone with the Hartford police in moments.
"Hartford PD Dispatch. How may I direct your call?"
"Records, please." Olivia took a hurried bite of her sandwich while on hold.
"One moment." There was a series of clicks, and a voice came on the line. "Records, this is Sherry. How may I help you?"
Olivia swallowed quickly. "Hi, Sherry. This is Detective Benson with the one-six up in Manhattan. How ya doin'?"
"Fine, Detective. How are you today?"
"Pretty good. Listen, I've got a perp in a case up here, and we think he might match to some cases that aren't in the system yet. Can you run a manual search for any aliases for a Michael William Bradley?"
"Sure thing, Detective. Hold on one second." Sherry took down Olivia's badge number and started scrolling through the files. "It's going to take a while; it's a pretty common name. Do you have an associated DOB?"
"I can, if you hold on one sec." Olivia gestured wildly toward Elliot, whispering to him to get Emma on the line and find out Mark's date of birth.
"Hello?" Emma's answer was wary.
"Em, it's Elliot. Listen, we're doing some background work; what's Mark's birthday?"
"May fifteenth, seventy-one."
Elliot passed the information immediately onto Olivia, who relayed it to Sherry. "Okay, Detective...aha! Here it is. Michael William Bradley, 5/15/71...quite a busy little bugger. Looks like he was busted on a variety of charges up here in '97, including possession of child pornography, and possession of marijuana with intent to distribute. He was put in the system on the kiddie porn charge." Sherry clicked down the page before speaking again. "Aliases include Joseph Hanson, Nathaniel Grayson and Mark Miller."
"Sherry," Olivia breathed a sigh of relief, her second within fifteen minutes, "that's fantastic. Can you e-mail me a copy of everything you have on him?"
"Sure thing." Sherry took down Olivia's e-mail address and fax numbers before asking, "Is there anything else you need, Detective Benson?"
"If you have anything else - his employment history, public records, anything at all - those'd be great."
"I'll see what I can find. If you need anything else, I'll attach the number for the public records hall here in Hartford. They should be able to help, too. Good luck, Detective."
"Thanks again." Olivia hung up and grinned at Elliot. "The print matches one of Mark's aliases. Unfortunately, the TRO was to prevent him from stalking Emma." Her grin faded and she frowned thoughtfully. "I didn't think he'd start watching Alex. Kid's smart."
"We'll put a car on her, too," Elliot replied, picking up his extension and dialing the uniforms. "They're gonna love us upstairs; first, baby-sitting duty for the ADA's kid sister, and now the ADA. You gonna call Alex?"
Olivia nearly grinned at Elliot's assumption. It was fair, though, she supposed; she had been the Cabots' point-of-contact regarding Emma's case since the beginning. As far as Elliot knew, she still was. Picking up the phone, Olivia had to remind herself to dial her own number, not Alex's. She heard the recording and made a mental note to change the message when she got home. "Emma? Alex? It's me. I have good news."
Emma picked up the phone, nearly falling over her suitcase in the process. She shushed Munch's subtle laughter and pressed the 'talk' button. "You got me Bon Jovi tickets?"
"Better. I got one of Mark's prints off the note he sent Alex this morning."
"The note he..." Emma turned and looked at Munch, who was admiring Olivia's picture window view of a building. "What are you talking about?"
"The note," Olivia repeated. "The one..." The detective trailed off, regaining her balance. "Alex didn't tell you?"
"No," Emma replied, devoid of emotion. "She left that part out." She paused, clenching her fists. Alex had promised not to keep anything from her; apparently, Emma now had to add her own sister to the list of betrayers in her midst. "So what does that mean, exactly?" she finally asked, her voice tiny in her ears.
Lowering her voice, Olivia replied, "It means Mark's switched his focus from you to her. We have another patrol car on the way to her office now. You'll both have twenty-four hour police escorts until he's locked up. Don't worry, okay." It was an order; Olivia's voice was firm and confident. "I won't let anything happen to either of you."
"Yup." Emma's reply was terse and hurt. "I'll see you later, okay?"
"Emma, do me a favor?" Olivia interceded quickly.
"Yeah?" Emma rubbed the bridge of her nose, her fingers aching as she unclenched them from around each other.
"Don't blame your sister. She's just trying to keep you safe - it's all she knows how to do."
Emma smiled thinly. "Thanks. See you later." She disconnected before Olivia could lecture her again. She put the cordless back in its cradle and watched Munch turn away from the window. "Undercover car's in place," he said lightly, crossing the living room to place a hand on Emma's shoulder. "You'll be safe. I promise."
"Thanks, John," Emma replied with a sigh.
"Do you need anything before I head back?" Munch asked, pulling on his coat.
"Other than a stiff drink and a long bath, I'm good. Thanks."
"Keep your chin up," Munch offered as he shut the door behind him. "And lock yourself in!"
Emma chuckled,
but turned the deadbolt as ordered. She sat on Olivia's plush couch,
pulling her feet underneath her legs. It had been a hellish few weeks -
truth be told, it had been a hellish lifetime. And it didn't seem
inclined to end anytime soon.
* * *
Alex arched back in her chair, the cracking and popping of the tendons an indication it was time to call it a day. She returned several of her file folders to their respective cabinets, pausing to run her fingers over a picture of herself and Emma, taken on her sister's wedding day. She had been so happy then, and it broke Alex's heart each time she saw a new wrinkle in the porcelain of her sister's skin, each flaw indicating the passage of time and lost battles. She took a deep breath, one that was smothered in part by the sharp closing of the filing cabinet drawer. She ordered herself to suck it up; it would all be over soon. Alex quickly gathered her things and hit the lights to her office on her way out. Olivia had called and said a car would be waiting for her. Alex had argued she didn't need one, but after the stern ADA got an even sterner talking to by her 'won't take no shit from anyone' girlfriend, Alex had relented. I really need to stop dating cops.
Struck by the quiet in the building around her, Alex stepped towards the curb, looking for her ride home.
"Alexandra," came the hissed whisper from the direction of the bushes. "I've missed your smiling face, sweetheart."
Alex turned so quickly that her attaché - cell phone inside - fell several feet away. Her heart leapt into her throat, and her pulse raced with adrenaline-laced fear. "You stay away from me, you son of a bitch."
"Keep dreaming," Mark laughed sardonically. He took a menacing step closer, his breath mingling with Alex's in the chilly evening air. "You're so cute, just like Emma...all self-righteous, calling me 'evil'. You don't stand a chance."
"I could put you down where you stand," Alex replied, her stony facade never betraying her racing heart. "There are cops crawling all over this place. You can't touch me. Or Emma."
Mark leaned forward and poked Alex's shoulder with his finger, breaking out into peals of hysterical laughter.
Much like she had done to her stepfather, Alex wrapped her fingers around Mark's. In a move that would make Olivia proud, she bent his arm behind his back so that they stood, stomachs touching, glaring eyes mixing in a dance of anger and sociopathic indifference, his fingers and wrist one mere turn away from being broken.
Emitting a strangled gasp, Mark's free hand shot out and his fingers curled around Alex's throat. "Lemme go, you fucking cunt!"
Alex's reflex reaction to oxygen deprivation was to squeeze his arm tighter, and flail her free arm into his sternum. "Stay...away..." she ordered in a strangled hiss.
"From Emma?" Mark murmured wickedly, around the pain of Alex's grip. He tightened his hand around her neck. "I don't think so, honey. She and I were meant to be. Don't you know how long I've been here, protecting her from all of you?" Mark shook his head in slow disbelief. "I'm the only one who really loves her."
Alex moved her hand and latched on to Mark's index finger, pulling it backwards. She used his slight movement backwards as impetus to push away from him, loosening his grip on her neck. "You call this loving her? Torturing her? Ruining her life?"
"She belongs to me!" Mark screamed, squeezing Alex's neck once more for good measure.
"Let her go!" Three feet behind Mark, Olivia's revolver was trained steadily on his head. "Let her go or I swear to God I'll blow your fucking head off," she cried, not caring who heard.
Mark's grip tightened; infuriated, Alex was now fighting to keep standing, her eyes fluttering. Mark was a big man; it was almost ironic that she hadn't realized just how strong he was. His hand clenched fully around her throat, and she could almost feel the bruises and marks made by his fingers burning her skin. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she heard Olivia's voice, but she wasn't entirely sure it wasn't just the oxygen deprivation.
"Let her go," Olivia demanded.
Mark released his grip and Alex crumpled to the ground. Turning to face the irate detective, he grinned. "She started it. But since she is my sister-in-law, I won't be pressing charges."
The battle raged within Olivia for a moment - should she arrest him or not? Since no real damage had apparently been done, she had no choice. Darting past Mark, Olivia sank to the ground and cradled Alex against her.
Alex cleared her throat, rubbing it gently for a minute. She watched Mark saunter into the night and looked up at Olivia. "Where's he going?"
"Probably to slaughter some animals," Olivia answered, running a hand over Alex's cheek. "You wanna press charges? I'll go 'cuff him."
"Wouldn't do any good," Alex said, fighting to get to her knees. "I antagonized him, inflicted the first real bodily injury. So unless you want to bail me out - again - we'll ignore it. Where were you?"
"I was coming to see you," Olivia said, holding Alex down gently. "Will you just sit and relax a minute?" the detective grumbled. "You were out for a little bit, take it easy."
"I'm fine," Alex argued, but sat back down on the pavement. "I feel like an idiot. I should have kept walking, should've kept looking for the undercovers."
"Who I'm going to kill, by the way," Olivia added. She fingered the bruises on Alex's neck tenderly, commenting, "This'll be the second time in as many weeks that you'll be visiting the ER. You Cabot girls have some luck, don'tcha?"
"Nothing's broken. No ER," Alex replied succinctly. "I want to get to Emma. Besides," she said, flashing her baby blues to the only person left in the world that her coy charm actually worked on, "you can take care of me just fine, right?"
"Oh, Christ." Olivia rolled her eyes. "Why does that slow-Southern-drawl thing still work on me? You'd think," she grumbled, climbing to her feet and reaching out to help Alex up, "that after two plus years of dating, not to mention the year we spent not talking, I'd be immune to those gorgeous blue eyes."
Alex shrugged, wiping the city grime off her pants. "Many have tried, few have succeeded. Thanks for rescuing me, Detective Benson," she teased, not letting go of Olivia's hand.
Olivia smiled genuinely. "Don't make me do it again," she warned.
Alex raised an eyebrow. "I'll do my best." She walked over to her attaché and slung it over her shoulder, her voice still raspy after the beating it had endured. "Have you been to see Emma yet?"
"No. I wanted to talk to you before you went over there, that's why I was here." Olivia walked Alex to the corner, her hand on one of the attorney's elbows, guiding her. "Emma knows about the note."
"Shit," Alex said with a sigh. "I didn't want to scare her," she offered in explanation. "Is she pissed?"
"Extremely. I'd bring body armor and maybe a guard."
"That's why I have you, right?" Alex joked, continuing to rub her throat. "I'd say I can't wait until this is over, but..." She shook her head, catching Olivia's eye in the dusky midtown evening. "I don't think he's ever going to stop."
"Unfortunately, I agree." Olivia eyed her girlfriend carefully. "What did he say to you, Alex? What exactly happened?"
"He taunted me for a minute, came out from behind those bushes," she turned and pointed to the incidental area, "and then he said he was the only one who really loved her, that he had been doing it forever. He touched me on the shoulder, and then I did one of the self-defense moves you taught me, and he used his free hand to give me this lovely purple and green turtleneck."
"Mark said he'd loved Emma forever?"
Alex nodded, watching Olivia's eyes as her brain worked overtime. "Yeah, why?"
"Just wondering." Olivia's gaze was off in the distance as an idea began to circulate in her brain. "Okay," she said, leaning over to hug Alex quickly. "Be careful."
Alex shrugged within Olivia's embrace. "No other choice." They separated, Alex pulling her coat more tightly around her. "Are you heading home?"
"Not for a few more hours. I have some … stuff to research." There was just the slightest pause as Olivia hid the truth from Alex once again. Hailing a cab, the detective sent her girlfriend on her way and headed back to the station house to do a little legwork. Something had been bothering her since she'd called Hartford that morning, and Mark's comment to Alex had brought it to the surface.
Olivia tried to run through the facts in order. Mark grew up in Connecticut – he'd told Emma as much, and she'd relayed that to Olivia. The fact that he had a string of aliases there wasn't surprising, considering that. What was it about Connecticut that had a connection to Emma's kidnapping two years ago? Besides the fact that Peter Kelleher was born, raised and resided in Bridgeport? Shit! Olivia doubled her pace, rocketing up the stairs in her haste to get to her desk. Dialing hastily, she prayed Sherry was a workaholic.
"Records. Sherry speaking, how may I help you?" She had to be the only records clerk on the East Coast that willing to help colleagues.
Olivia sighed gratefully. "Sherry, it's Detective Benson from Manhattan, again. I'm glad you're still there. I don't have your research in front of me; can you tell me the exact dates Michael Bradley, alias Mark Miller, was arrested in Hartford?"
"Sure, Detective. One moment, please." Sherry clicked around her records program, and hunted through the names until she found Michael's history. "He has a juvy record, Detective, from the late '80s, but I don't have any specific dates on that. His other charges stem from August 23rd, 1997."
"'97?" Olivia repeated, doing the mental math. If Emma was twenty-eight, that meant she'd gotten her B.A. in about '96... "August of '97?" she said again.
"That's what the records indicate," Sherry confirmed.
"Thanks again, Sherry." Olivia hung up with a sigh, catching Elliot's raised eyebrow out of the corner of her eye.
"What's up?" Elliot happily hung up the phone; explaining to Kath he was going to be late for the fourth night in a row was not going over well.
"Mark Miller," Olivia said, tossing the unearthed file to her partner. "He's got a record in Hartford from 1997. According to our interviews from two years ago, Mark said Emma dumped him the summer of that same year. Emma says it was because he was, quote, 'creeping her out'." Olivia's eyebrow went up, matching Elliot's. "All this time, we've been assuming Mark just started harassing Emma. What's to say he didn't start five years ago?"
Elliot leafed quickly through the file, nodding as Olivia's theory sank in. "Do you think there are more letters somewhere?"
"I hadn't thought about it, but probably. She woulda been living with Jordan, and then Jess, about the time she broke up with Mark. I'll give them both a call." Olivia reached for the phone, her heart sinking with the realization that this wasn't as simple as they'd all hoped.
* * *
"I'm sorry," Jess said again. "I had no idea..."
"It's not your fault," Olivia assured her. It was becoming something of a mantra lately. "You thought they were from her stepdad, you were trying to protect Emma. I just think everyone keeps forgetting that she's a grownup." The detective scribbled a note to herself and returned her attention to Jess. "Did you save the letters?" she asked, hoping against hope.
Jess nodded to herself. "Yeah," she said aloud. "I thought...I thought if he tried anything, I could, like, blackmail him to stay away from her. I don't know what I was thinking."
"Listen, Jess, I need those letters as soon as possible. Can you get here tomorrow?" Olivia practically pleaded.
"First thing." She copied down the address the detective rattled off and hung up.
The phone rang as soon as she dropped it into the cradle. Olivia answered tiredly, "Benson."
"Detective Benson, it's Sherry from Hartford PD Records. I've been doing some digging on Michael Bradley, and I found a weird link between his record in Hartford and a Mike Bradley in Atlanta. I figured I'd pass it on, in case you were interested."
"I'm very interested," Olivia affirmed.
"I don't have anything to confirm it's him except twenty years of cross-referencing experience," Sherry warned, "but this was something that settled in my gut. Anyway, your Michael Bradley in Hartford did a suspended sentence of a year. There's no record of him in Hartford past August of '98. Well, in September of '98, Mike Bradley turned up in Atlanta and did a student teaching gig in a pre-law course at Atlanta Community College. He stayed there until 2000."
"Atlanta...holy Christ." Olivia dropped her pen in disbelief. "Seriously, I think I'm gonna give my job up to you and the guys in CSU. You're doing it a hell of a lot better than I am."
Sherry laughed, its echo carrying through the empty hallways of the basement of Hartford PD. "Detective Benson, when you've been at this as long as I have, you can tell which cops really care and which are millimeters away from an IAB investigation. You sound like you care, and if you care, then I'll care. Besides, you said thank you. That's a rarity in my line of work."
"Double thank you, and my promises for a batch of my girlfriend's sister's chocolate chip cookies at Christmas." Olivia beamed into the phone. "She makes them so chewy, you'd kill your own mother for one."
Sherry started at the girlfriend reference, but said nothing. "My address is on the fax I sent you yesterday, Detective. And tell her that I like double chips in my cookies."
"You've got it." Olivia hung up and turned to Elliot, unaware of her slip. "Hey, Elliot, pop quiz. If you're a stalker and you get dumped by your victim, where do you go?"
"Other than to the loony bin?" Elliot shook his head. "Most stalkers, when slighted, lash out violently. You know that."
Olivia nodded, waving one hand dismissively. "Yeah, but maybe you're not crazy enough yet. Maybe you just think you're in love and you want to be surrounded by memories of her. Maybe you also have a bachelor's in Criminal Justice and pre-law," she spoon-fed him clues, a grin on her face to light the room. She had Mark by the short hairs.
"You go somewhere she's been." Elliot nodded, comprehension setting in. "So we know he stayed in Hartford and Bridgeport after he and Emma split up in college?"
"And once he'd acquired a record there, he moved on down to Atlanta. You know who else is in Atlanta?"
"Caroline. Damn." Elliot leaned back in his chair, whistling lowly. He watched Olivia's eyes and her pencil rolling between her fingers, sure signs she had a theory. "You think he hooked up with Caroline in Atlanta, got more dirt on Emma, and then came back here?"
Nodding, Olivia echoed, "Caroline fucking Cabot, the bane of Alex's existence - and Emma's," she added, nearly as an afterthought. "I think she probably gave him the dish on everything that Emma hadn't told him about their family history, whether she meant to or not."
Elliot swiped the file off Olivia's desk and thumbed through, looking for the popular Miss Cabot-Whitney. "Should we give her a call?"
"That's all up to you." Olivia glanced up at the clock on the wall. "The girls are expecting me for dinner." She grinned at her partner, her heart about three tons lighter.
"We're gonna nail him, Elliot."
* * *
Judge Lena Petrovsky had put up with a lot in her ten years on the bench, and she had come to expect the parties arguing in her court to do just about anything. Since Alexandra Cabot had started arguing in front of her more than two years earlier, Petrovsky knew to expect the veteran attorney to be at least ten minutes early. Now that the ADA was running thirty minutes late, Lena's patience had worn thin. "Bailiff," she barked, "please call ADA Cabot's office and find out when she's going to grace us with her presence. Until then, we are in recess." She banged her gavel and retreated to chambers, awaiting the blonde's check for contempt.
She wouldn't get it.
Michelle flipped through Alex's Rolodex, quickly finding the name she needed. She dialed the 16th precinct, hoping the detective would be in, and not out in the field.
"Benson," she answered on the fourth ring.
"Detective Benson, this is Michelle Aronson. I'm ADA Cabot's assistant."
"Hi, Michelle. What can I do for you?" Olivia flipped through her schedule, wondering why Alex couldn't just ask her to lunch herself.
"Have you seen the ADA today?" Michelle asked worriedly, already knowing the answer.
Fear shot through Olivia's heart before her brain caught up. "No..." she replied slowly. "She didn't come in?"
"I'm afraid not. She was nearly forty minutes late for court before Judge Petrovsky called us. Normally, Alex goes straight there when she has early morning arraignments..." The young paralegal's voice trembled. "I called her super, and he went up to her apartment. He said the door was busted in..."
Olivia's voice trembled as she acknowledged the information. Dropping the phone as if scalded, Olivia squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. This wasn't happening; it wasn't. "Captain!" she shouted, opening her eyes and striding across the squad room.
Cragen opened his door quickly, happy to disconnect with OPP prematurely. He saw the look on Olivia's face, and his heart became irregular momentarily. That look could only mean one thing. "Is it Emma?"
"No, Alex." Olivia's heart was pounding so hard she thought it would fly out of her chest at any moment. "She's missing. She didn't show up for work this morning and the super found her apartment busted open."
Cragen had to take a step back and at least thirty seconds to comprehend what Olivia said. "I'll go with you." He didn't bother to go back into his office to grab his coat, just followed Olivia out of the building as fast as his legs could carry him. He would later remember telling Munch to find out where Mark was, but in that instant, all he knew was they had to get to Alex.
They borrowed a cruiser and sped the entire way to Alex's apartment, lights flashing and sirens blaring. Olivia was silent, unable to understand what had happened. She prayed it was just a coincidence; the uniformed police had been outside Alex's door every second she was there for the past three weeks. How could - no. It couldn't have. Olivia couldn't reconcile herself to the possibility.
Cragen nearly jumped the curb when parking the car, and immediately flashed his badge to the officers manning the yellow tape that now surrounded Alex's building. "Cragen, Special Victims. Who's in charge here?" The uniformed officer pointed to a man in a long beige trench coat. Without preamble, Cragen and Olivia ducked under the crime scene tape and made their way double-time to the detective.
"Cragen, Special Victims."
"Craig Schiller, two-five. What's Special Victims doing out here?"
"You're looking for ADA Alexandra Cabot, right?" At Schiller's affirming nod, Cragen continued. "She's our ADA, and a personal friend. What've you got?"
"Super found the door in splinters, a little blood spatter and a hypodermic needle. We're sending it to the lab now; first guess is it's some kind of depressant." Schiller paused, looking at Olivia. "You wouldn't happen to be Benson, would you?"
"Yeah," Olivia replied immediately, "Why?"
Schiller motioned to one of the CSU technicians numbering the bags of evidence his colleagues brought down. He handed Olivia a red and white plastic bag stamped 'Evidence'. "We found this tacked on the remainder of the doorframe."
Detective Benson,
Maybe you'll get it right this time. Wouldn't want all this bloodshed wasted.
Olivia's hand started shaking and she thrust the evidence bag back at Schiller. "We have to call Huang." Her voice was high and tight, foreign to her own ears. "We have to get this son of a bitch, Cap. I can't—" She cut herself off, striding to the car; her breath caught in her throat, and Olivia's chest ached with the effort to get air.
Cragen handed Schiller his card. "You need to keep us in the loop about this; no pissing on territory or any shit like that, you got it? Your first suspect should be Mark Miller. He's Alex's brother-in-law, and he assaulted her a few days ago. Find him, and you find Alex. My squad will assist you in whatever way necessary. Are we clear?"
"Crystal," Schiller replied, pocketing the business card. "I'll let you know if we track down Miller."
"When you track down Miller," Cragen warned. "When." He turned on his heel and retreated to the squad car, pausing in the open passenger's side. "You all right?"
Olivia shook
her head mutely. "I have to be," she contradicted herself. "Let's
go."
* * *
"I hate it when he does that," Munch muttered, watching as Dr. Huang paced in front of the event board they'd created, linking Emma and Alex's cases. Schiller had called with an update from Alex's apartment, informing them that the undercover officers had been in front of the building when Alex was taken. CSU found a jimmied window leading into the basement of the building; Mark had ridden the elevator up to her apartment without ever being detected. He either hit or drugged her, and then took her out the back through a door he'd left propped open. Teams had already been sent to comb the waterfront, and Huang was trying to make heads or tails of the circumstances, just as they all were.
"He was expecting Emma to be there," the psychologist finally said, turning to Olivia. "Only Emma, you, Alex and the other cops knew you'd moved her, and they all knew Mark was to be arrested on sight if he went near Emma."
Her eyes frantic and pleading with him to make sense of it all, Olivia nodded. "Did he mistake Alex for Emma?"
"No. I think he was expecting Emma to be there, and when she wasn't, that infuriated him more. He took the next best thing." Huang turned back to the event board and said nothing for a minute, before Cragen prompted him. "What aren't you saying, Doc?"
Huang sighed quietly, almost silently, before turning back to the group of detectives. "He's escalating, past the point of mania. He's sociopathic at the very least, and he's completely fixated on Emma. Now that he's lost her, again, by taking Alex instead, he's showing us that he's past his breaking point." He held up the legal pad Olivia had scribbled the contents of the day's note on. "This isn't taunting anymore. It's threatening. He's going to kill Alex by the end of the day."
Swallowing the bile that rose in her throat, Olivia rubbed the back of her neck with one hand. "Where'd he take her?"
"He's going to want something accessible, but not something obvious. He's manic, but he hasn't reached the distinguishable psychotic break yet. I'd say check out some of Emma's old haunts; schools, clubs, libraries, anything that reminds him of her. He's not just taunting you, Olivia. He's also trying to bring Emma back into this."
Something in Olivia snapped and her eyes grew unfocused. "He wants us all dead before it's over," she surmised.
Huang nodded. "Better you than him."
Cragen turned away from the pictures of the two sisters in disgust. "All right, let's think. Emma used to live near NYU and went to school there."
"We'll go check out her old place," Munch volunteered, pulling Fin out of his chair.
"She also designs restaurants," Cragen continued, thinking back to their brief conversations over the past few weeks.
"Huang," Olivia asked, seeming to come back to the conversation, "would a burnt-out nightclub fall in his choice of venue?"
"If Emma designed it, yeah."
"What if she was going to redesign it?" Cragen asked, following Olivia's train of thought.
"Definitely," Huang agreed.
"Fifty-seventh and Broadway," Olivia directed Elliot. "You and me." She glanced back at Cragen. "That okay, Cap?" she asked, as an afterthought.
"Go," Cragen ordered, itching to get back out there and search. "Keep me informed."
As Benson and Stabler headed out of the squad room, Huang called softly after Olivia. It was obvious to him that the detective had more at stake in this than she was letting on.
Turning, Olivia braced herself for his speech; they were never Hallmark cards.
"She's going to be beaten very severely," Huang warned quietly. "He's got a rage towards her and towards Emma, and she's going to get all of it, not just the brunt of it. He'll probably have raped her, and will leave her naked. This is, of course, if she's still alive. I can't possibly prepare you for all of the possibilities you might face, but just remember this as a certainty: when you throw up, do it away from the crime scene."
Feeling her hands start to shake, Olivia feared she might vomit right there. It was hard enough seeing a stranger in the position the profiler had described, but the image of her best friend and confidante, her lover, brutalized in that fashion, was almost too much for the sex crimes detective to handle. Almost. "Thanks," she murmured. "When we find her...I'll owe you."
Huang shook
his head. "I want you to promise me you'll come and talk to me once this
is all settled. Like after the Guan case...you'll need to talk."
Huang nodded once, succinctly, before gesturing to the waiting Elliot. "Go
find her."
* * *
Alex fought against the sand and fog, fought against the weight lying on her chest. She could see the surface, she was fighting against the undercurrent just to have her head break against the waves. She didn't know what she would see when she came to; she thought it had to be better than the hazy confusion she was wafting through now.
She was wrong.
Alex moaned, and turned her head, finding it almost impossible to do so. As soon as the slightest noise escaped her throat, she felt a sharp pang against her head, and another, then another. She whimpered again, and then received more blows. She felt something move inside her, like a rat. She couldn't open both eyes; why couldn't she open both? Alex wasn't sure. Instead, her right eye opened and she saw a big, black shadow looming over her. He was smiling; there was a large half-moon of white in her visual space. The moon was talking, although she really couldn't hear what he was saying. She kept fighting as best she could, though her limbs were made of stone. He kept moving up and down, inside and outside, and she kept whimpering, until her voice drifted back underneath the waves.
"Wake up!" Mark yelled at her, landing a resonant blow against Alex's already-red cheek.
The cry stirred her from her imposed slumber, and she opened her comparably good eye again. "Please..." she managed.
"Please what, bitch?" Mark spat. "'Please stop hitting me?' 'Please stop fucking me?'" he mocked her higher-pitched voice. "You've earned it." He leaned back, his pants hanging open and grinned as his fist cracked off Alex's jaw.
She couldn't manage a reply, and fell more limp under the weight of his angry body. "For Emma..." She tried again after a moment, tried to regain her quickly dissipating strength.
With every weak struggle Alex gave beneath him, Mark felt his heart quicken and his pulse race. "Oh, don't you worry, little lady, my wife's gonna get her comeuppance right along with her impudent big sister." He sat back on his heels and admired his handiwork. Alex lay on a soiled mattress, naked from the waist down, her face a mess of dried blood and her legs caked in urine - his. She'd fought him much too hard and he'd had to show the prissy little ADA who was boss.
Mark grabbed her by the shoulders and wrested Alex from the mattress violently. "Alexandra!" he screamed, safe in the knowledge that no one would hear him from so deep within the gutted building. "Get your ass up, now!" Her head lolled back and Mark threw her limp body down in disgust. "Weak little cunt." Frustrated, he ripped her shirt open, baring Alex entirely to the elements in the decrepit building.
He stood up
and brushed off his knees, zipping up his pants quickly. This is a
good thing, he decided. _Now I have time to run my errands while she
sleeps it off. He strode out of the building, clicking the padlock into
place. Hailing a cab, Mark told the driver, "Fifty-second and Lexington."
* * *
Olivia finally thought to call Emma as they were flying through the streets on the way to the club. "Emma!" she barked into her answering machine. "It's Olivia, pick up now!"
Emma leapt off the couch, ripped out from a wonderful dream involving Michael Vartan and chocolate-covered strawberries. She heard Olivia order her to pick up the phone a second time, and she dove for the receiver, nearly falling off the couch in the process. "Wha? What is it?" she asked, breathless and sleepy.
"Emma, Alex was kidnapped."
"What?" Emma cried, pushing unruly strands of blonde out of her eyes. "Oh, God. Is she all right? Where is she?"
Olivia tried to fight her own panic. "We think she's at Neon Lights, you need to get out immediately. Mark snatched Alex out of her apartment with the uniforms out front. You need to get out right now, go downstairs and climb into one of the cop cars. Sit in the officer's fucking lap if you have to, I don't care. Just get somewhere safe," Olivia ordered her. "He's gonna come for you after—" She couldn't finish the thought.
"Okay," Emma replied immediately, searching for her shoes. "I'll get out of here now."
"Good. I'll call you on your cell as soon as we know anything." Olivia hung up, her shoulders lightened immeasurably. Alex and Emma were the two most important people in her life, and the thought of both of them being in danger threatened to shut her down.
As her finger clicked the button and turned Olivia's voice into silence, Emma stood, in the middle of the detective's apartment, consumed with a quiet rage and a fierce determination. She pulled on her coat and shoes, fishing in her purse for her tiny cell phone. As she held it in the palm of her hand, the calm leeched into an eerie smile. She pressed speed dial one, and waited two rings before speaking softly. "Mark, honey, it's me. I want to talk to you. Can you meet me at home? Great." She disconnected and strode out of the apartment, ready for whatever came next.
THE END
