Oliver Johns looked from Elliot back to Olivia. "Yeah, I clock in for Chandler," he said, shrugging. "He gives me a small cut of his check." He gave a sidelong look at Elliot. "That ain't illegal is it?" he asked.
Elliot ignored him, studying his face. "Listen, Oliver, we need to know the exact dates that you clocked in for him. You remember those?"
Oliver shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "A couple of times last week, the week before last."
Olivia pressed him. "We need dates," she said. "Think hard."
Oliver paused, moving his lips gently as he counted back the days. He turned to a calendar that hung near the coffee machine and rose from his chair walking over to it. "July 9, July 10, July 15, and July 16, he said.
Olivia looked at Elliot, her eyes sparking. "Those are our dates," she said. She picked her phone out of her holster, her fingers poised over Alex's number, prepared to call for the warrant.
The kid looked back at them, walking casually back to his seat. "And tonight," he finished, sitting back down in his chair.
Olivia looked up at him, her fingers hovering over her phone. "What?" she asked, dread running like a current through her body.
"I'm clocking in for him tonight," Oliver repeated. He gave another look at Elliot. "But… I won't, if it's illegal…"
Olivia met Elliot's gaze, her own alarm reflected in his eyes. He rose quickly from his chair. "I'll put out an APB," he said quickly, picking his phone out of his pocket and walking towards the exit. Olivia's fingers trembled slightly as she put her phone to her ear. Whether it was from adrenaline or some other source of fear, she couldn't tell.
This is Alex, leave a message.
"Shit," Olivia mumbled. She looked over at Oliver and tossed him a business card. "Thanks, Oliver," she said, standing. "We'll be in touch." She turned, walking briskly, and flung open the break room door, speeding toward Elliot and the squad car. He glanced back at her as he opened the driver's side door. "We're heading to Chandler's place?" he confirmed as Olivia met him at the car.
She nodded. "I know how to get there," she said, flashing back to the hours she'd spent the weekend before tracking him. "Drive."
Alex struggled, her hands moving further up the arms that choked her, squinting her blue eyes shut as she blindly kicked a leg out behind her, hoping to make contact with the figure behind her. A muffled, male grunt sounded, and Alex kicked again, forcefully. The man's leg buckled momentarily, and she felt the strip on her neck slack slightly. She took advantage of the give, and turned quickly, attempting to deliver another kick to the figure's groin. She missed, but felt her knee hit the flesh of his inner thigh, and he crumpled to one knee. Alex's head swam as she desperately pulled air back into her aching chest, her fingers gripping the wall, commanding her body to move. She stumbled towards the middle room, her vision tunneling before her. Scream, an inner voice commanded, but her chest heaved sporadically, the only sound she managed coming out ragged and breathless.
She heard a scuffle behind her, and threw herself further, toward the living room. Get out, the voice said. Lurching on unsteady legs, her hands found contact with Olivia's desk when she felt a hard object strike the small of her back. Any breath that she had recovered was knocked back out of her as she fell to her hands and knees with a grunt, pain searing through her. She felt his hand on her bare leg, and she kicked back at him, adrenaline commanding her to fight. A hard object cracked down on her left ankle and she cried out in pain. Finding her voice, she opened her mouth to scream as the man pulled himself on top of her. His hand wrapped itself in her hair and yanked back harshly. Alex's scream came out as a thwarted gurgle, her neck feeling as if it would snap. A shiver ran through her spine, and she felt a deep well of fear settle into her chest, knowing that if she let it get the best of her, it would paralyze her instincts. She again struggled to take air into her stretched throat as she felt his breath in her ear. He said nothing.
He slid off of her, his hand still entwined in her hair. As he rose to his knees, Alex flipped herself over, tears rising to her eyes as she felt her hair rip from her scalp. She threw herself onto him, using the momentum of her body to push him off balance. Her hand swiped his face, her fingers catching his black mask, lifting it and exposing a delicate chin, lean nose, and bright, clear green eyes. Alex gasped, reflexively pulling away from him as she registered the same green gaze that she'd seen the week before. "No, no, no, no," she moaned, scrambling to her feet. She let out a scream of pain and frustration as her left ankle crumpled beneath her and she felt him on top of her once again. He straddled her, averting his exposed face from her hands, which darted out, scraping his neck, his cheek. He grabbed another handful of her hair and pulled her head forward before slamming it back onto the floor. Alex's vision blurred, her hands losing momentum as the room spun around her. Raymond Chandler placed a crowbar across Alex's neck, pushing down on her throat. Alex's hands moved toward the smooth metal, but she could feel her mind separating from her body as her hands grasped limply at the metal.
He ran a finger across his cheek, coming away with blood. Shit, he thought, looking down at the blonde, whose eyes were rolling back in her head. He had no idea when the detective, who had been his original target, was due home. Shit, he thought again, rising quickly off of the woman below him and giving an angry kick to her midsection. She grunted in pain, rolling to her side, gripping her torso. Shit, he thought again, anger rising in his chest as he retrieved his mask, pulling it back over his head. He landed another kick, lashing out in the same spot, this time hearing the satisfying crack of a rib. He leaned over, grabbing his crowbar from her neck and dragging her by her hair back to the bedroom. He lifted her mostly dead weight onto the bed, climbing on top of her. Straddling her, he lifted her limp hands above her head, holding them together in one hand while retrieving a piece of plastic wire from his pocket. He pulled the wire tightly around her hands, wrapping them firmly to the headboard as he kept his eyes on Alex's, her blue eyes still dazed.
Alex felt her hands above her head, and felt a sharp sting in her wrists. Spots still clouded her vision, but she felt Olivia's smooth comforter underneath her, Chandler's weight on top of her. The spots dotting her vision grew smaller and she saw him watching her, saw his eyes beneath his mask, running across her heaving chest. She held his gaze as he reached into his pocket, her eyes widening as she caught the glimmer of the knife blade he brought towards her.
"Wrong place, wrong time," he said, running the sharp edge of the knife against her throat. "I didn't expect to see you tonight, Ms. Cabot. Tell me," he whispered, leaning down into her. "When is Detective Benson expected home?" He watched as her pulse pounded beneath his knife.
Alex felt fear well in the pit of her stomach at the mention of Olivia, and her throat tightened. She shook her head, almost unwittingly, and didn't see Chandler's fist until it cracked against her cheek. Her head reeled sideways, and she felt her lip rip against her teeth. He gripped her jaw, roughly turning her face back towards him. "I don't mind waiting for her," he threatened. "I'll enjoy making you describe everything I did to you before I do it to her."
Alex swallowed blood, feeling a tooth jiggle inside her mouth. She felt a burn in her chest, a flare of anger. She spit at him, dousing his mask in a fine spray of blood. She felt two more blows explode against the side of her face, and she moaned into the comforter. He drug the knife across Alex's neck, along the red, inflamed line left from the plastic strap, then lower across her collarbone. "No," she said, as he continued lower, flicking open the buttons along her blouse. He cut her sleeves, ripping the shirt from her body before ripping it down the fabric of her skirt. He pulled it roughly from her hips, and she instinctively pressed her legs together. He wrenched them back open, dragging the knife up one thigh, digging in hard enough to leave a thin ribbon of blood.
Chandler turned his head to look at the blonde, the fabric of the mask clouding his view. He ripped it off, her pale skin coming clearer into view. He watched as her chest rose and fell, watched how her stomach muscles twisted as he moved his knife up her pelvis, heard her breath hitch as he yanked the knife up under her bra, ripping it from her torso. "Detective Benson enjoys having her cake and eating it, too," he whispered, his knife trailing lower, ripping through her thin underwear. He looked back at Alex, his eyes locking onto hers as he watched her steel her jaw, even as fear and repulsion crept into her blue eyes. "You don't say much," he said, the fingers of his free hand roaming up her leg, across her stomach, then pressing below her sternum. She writhed under him as he pressed into her broken ribs, her eyes tearing in pain. He released the pressure and brought his knife up to her chest, circling her breast. "Let's see how quiet you can be for this next part."
Olivia slammed her hand on the dashboard. "Shit! Alex isn't picking up her phone." She stared out of the windshield, a feeling creeping into the back of her mind. "Elliot, he's not at work, he wasn't at his apartment. That sadistic fuck is looking for another mark tonight."
Elliot concentrated, his eyes narrowing as he wove in and out of traffic. "Liv, there are hundreds of officer out on the streets tonight who have seen the APB. He'll turn up." He turned a quick corner, and Olivia reached out to the dashboard to steady herself. She shook her head, dread deepening in the pit of her belly. Once again an image of Jessica Flanagan's bruised face flashed through her mind, those spiritless blue eyes staring back at her at the precinct. "Elliot, take me home," she demanded suddenly.
Elliot glanced at her, his foot pressing further on the gas pedal as he caught a tremor of panic in his partner's voice. "Liv, there something you're not telling me?" he asked.
She shook her head, her eyes staring at the city blurring outside her window. "I don't know," she responded, working hard to keep her voice level. She paused. "I saw him this weekend," she said quietly. "I tracked him, and he saw me."
"What?" Elliot shouted, banging his fist on the steering wheel. "What the hell were you thinking, Liv?" He shook his head, frustrated. "Even if he wasn't a nut job, what are you doing following him around? Did he threaten you? He could be coming for you right now." He peered over at her briefly, worried anger flashing in his eyes.
Olivia didn't respond, but his words cut deeply in her chest, giving voice to the worry that had settled within her over the past hour. "Just get me home, Elliot." She had an urgent desire to see Alex, to put her arms around her, and somehow, to put this case behind her, if only for one night. Anything beyond that, she didn't want to think about anymore.
"Tell me what she does to you."
His words, his blows, her moans melded together in a resounding tunnel of pain. She felt his teeth on her, a sting in her neck, whispering into her ear, "Whore." She felt air around her as he leaned off of her, gasping in air, her ribs sending a sharp pain into her lungs. She saw a flash of white, something hovering over her, and she welcomed it, a wild, thrashing panic setting in only as she registered the pillow over her face. Blinding, searing pain in her chest, then her thigh, her muffled screams resounding in her own private hell.
She saw him again, the white of the pillow disappearing, her chest on fire. Her blue eyes stared into his, unable to move, frozen in fear as she watched him. His hand gripping her neck, pulling her toward him, the crack as her shoulder pulled in her restraints. A flash of pain between her legs, the bile rising in her throat. Another ripping ache, her hot tears coating her cheeks. A steady pumping as she dry heaved, choking, finally closing her eyes to him. Hours, or merely minutes later, feeling weightless. She felt herself spin, saw the room turn in her eyes, tried to keep her eye on him, not seeing him, until finally welcoming darkness.
Elliot pulled up in front of Olivia's apartment with a squeal of his brakes, twisting off the ignition and unbuckling his seatbelt. Olivia turned to him, her hand poised on the handle of the door. "Elliot, what are you doing?"
"I'm coming up," he said.
Olivia protested. "Elliot, we'll be fine." She watched his face, a passing car's headlights illuminating the worry in his eyes. "I'll text you when I'm in," she assured him, stepping out of the car.
He climbed out of the car, locking it. "Not good enough," he said.
She shook her head at her partner's persistence and let him follow her into the building, up the two flights of stairs to her apartment door. She slid her key in the lock and stepped inside, Elliot following her. A persistent beep sounded from the microwave, and Olivia stepped over to it, flipping open the door. A plate of cabbage sat inside, cold. An unsettled feeling, resembling nausea, settled into Olivia's stomach as she eyed the full wine glass sitting on the counter. "Alex," she called, walking into the living room, the small lamp allowing her to see that everything was exactly how she had left it that morning. "Alex?" she called again, her voice a pitch higher. She walked towards the middle room, noticing a pile of papers scattered across the floor, her desk pushed oddly against the far wall. Her eyes drifted toward the open window in the bedroom, and her she lunged forward. "Alex!" she called, panic fully realized in her scream. She saw the blood, heavy ribbons running across the width of the blonde's body, pooling heavily near her chest.
"Ohhh God," she moaned, her stomach heaving as she lurched toward the bed on unsteady legs. "No, no, no, no," she said, her gun dropping to the floor, her hands hovering over Alex's limp body. Elliot was behind her in a second, halting on his heels. "Jesus Christ," he said, fumbling for his phone. He turned his eyes toward the open window pressing the phone to his ear. "I need an ambulance," he said, climbing out of the window to the fire escape, reciting Olivia's address. The alley below him was empty, the night quiet.
"Alex," Olivia said, her voice loud and wavering. The blonde was unresponsive, her eyes closed, her head lolled limply to one side. Olivia's fingers fumbled for a pulse and she exhaled as she saw the blonde's chest rise and fall in an unsteady rhythm. She grabbed a blanket and pressed it to the wound in her chest, blood seeping quickly through it. "Alex," she repeated, a small cry escaping her throat as she assessed the rest of her body. She grabbed her knife from her holster, quickly cutting through the bonds on Alex's hands, gently rubbing the circulation back into the pale fingers. She brought her arms down to her sides, taking note of the odd angle of her right arm. Olivia jumped at a scuffle at the window, audibly exhaling as she saw Elliot hitch his leg over the sill. She looked up at him, her face a mask of horror as he walked over to her, looking down at the blonde. Olivia followed his gaze, noticing the blood pooling between Alex's legs.
"Oh, God," she said with a choked sob as she pulled the blanket down over Alex's body, pressing it into her thigh. Elliot put a hand on her back. "Olivia," he said, his hand circling gently, "I'm going to check out the alley downstairs." He bent down toward her, forcing him to look into his eyes. "The ambulance will be here in two minutes. Stay with her." She nodded as Elliot turned toward the door, tears welling in her eyes as she turned back toward the attorney, her shaking hands still pressing the blanket into her wounds.
"Alex, sweetie," she said, her eyes watching the light rise and fall of the attorney's chest. "Alex, sweetie, it's me. I'm here, Alex, you're safe, we've got help on the way, sweetheart." She felt a hot tear roll down her cheek. "Alex, open your eyes, sweetie, you're safe." She repeated the words over and over as Alex lay still, her breathing becoming slightly labored. Olivia heard sirens in the distance, willing them to come faster.
Liz Donnelly pushed her way through several nurses, her eyes roaming wildly down the length of the bright, sterile hallway. She spotted Cragen, his head dipped back against the white wall he leaned on. He saw her, and walked calmly towards her, his brow furrowed. "Where is she?" Liz asked, breathless.
Cragen put a calm hand on her shoulder, wanting to ease the panic he saw in the attorney's eyes. "She's in the OR. We haven't gotten any news yet, Liz."
Liz inhaled, futilely attempting to calm the terror in her voice. "What happened?" Her eyes grazed over him wildly.
Cragen frowned, gesturing toward a row of chairs against the wall. "Liz, maybe you should sit down – "
Liz shrugged his hands from her shoulders, frustrated, tears glistening in her eyes. "Damn it, Don, what happened?"
He took a breath. "Liz, Alex was assaulted and raped in Olivia Benson's apartment tonight."
Liz let out a breathless moan, and placed a steadying hand onto the Captain's chest. "Oh God," she said, her voice cracking as she remembered watching Alex walk into the detective's apartment earlier that night. "Was Olivia - ?"
Cragen shook his head. "She was with Stabler, working the Flanagan case. She and Elliot found Alex. The suspect had fled."
Liz peered over Cragen's shoulder and saw Olivia sitting in a chair, her arms resting on her knees, her head in her hands. She looked back at the Captain, her lower lip trembling. She tried to focus on the lines in his forehead, the pattern on his tie, anything to keep herself from breaking. He placed his hands back on her shoulders. "Liz, she'll be fine," he assured her, but she could read the uncertainty masked across his features.
"Did you see her come in?" Liz asked, the idea of questions giving her some semblance of control, which she was on the verge of losing completely. "Was she conscious?" Her voice was small, and she felt her energy quickly draining from her.
Cragen shook his head again. "Olivia said she wasn't conscious when she found her." He dipped his head toward the DA, forcing her to look him in the eye. "She was breathing, Liz, and she had a pulse," he assured her.
She nodded, placing her shaking hands over her eyes. She inhaled deeply.
"Is there anyone I can call for her?" Cragen asked.
Liz removed her hands, her eyes red, and looked up at him blankly. She thought for a moment, forcing her mind to focus on his question. "Her Uncle," she said, nodding slightly, almost as if to reassure herself that her mind could actually function, could do something helpful.
Cragen nodded. "Bill Hermann," he said, familiar with the name. "Do you want to give me a number where I can reach him?" he asked gently.
Liz nodded, fishing her phone out of her purse, cursing her fingers as they shook. Cragen reached for the phone, but she jerked it back from him, desperately wanting to focus on a task. She steeled her jaw, but knew her eyes betrayed her. "I can do it," she said, her voice cracking. "I can do it."
Cragen gave her a reassuring nod. "Call him. I'll be right over there," he said, pointing toward Olivia, whose head still rested limply in her hands. Liz glanced over at Olivia, and her chest ached for the woman. "Don," she said, grabbing his arm as he turned, "Alex and Olivia – "
Cragen cut her off, nodding his head and placing a hand on her arm. "I know," he said. He turned and walked back toward his detective, leaving Liz to make the call. He took a seat next to Olivia and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. The brunette kept her head in her hands, and the two sat silently for several moments.
"He wasn't at work tonight," she said, her voice muffled.
Cragen leaned in closer, his eyes squinting to hear her. "Olivia? What was that?" He watched as she lifted her head and looked at him. Her eyes were swollen and red-rimmed.
"Chandler wasn't at work tonight," she said.
The older man turned to face her, his eyes concerned. "Olivia, we can talk about this later. Elliot's at the scene, he's making sure they gather every scrap of evidence - "
Olivia cut him off, her voice a mere whisper. "I followed him. He saw me. He wanted me."
Cragen's eyes deepened in concern as he stared at Olivia. He parted his lips to speak, but was cut off as Liz walked over, her phone still in her hand. He abdicated his seat, giving Olivia's shoulder one last squeeze before motioning for the attorney to sit. She nodded toward him, but stopped in front of Olivia, squatting in front of the detective, her eyes on the crown of the brunette's bowed head.
"Olivia," she said, taking her hands into her own, dipping her head lower to catch the detective's eyes. "I'm so sorry."
Olivia felt several stray tears trail down her cheeks as she looked up at older woman, registering the ache that pooled in Liz's eyes. She quickly shook her tears away, wiping them with the back of her fist, dropping her head into her chest.
"Olivia, listen to me," Liz instructed, her tone assertive as she squeezed the detective's knee. "Look at me, Olivia."
"I should've been there," Olivia whispered, her voice catching in her throat.
Liz shook her head, wishing the detective would look up at her. She placed a hand on Olivia's chin and gently guided her gaze upwards. "No, Olivia," she said, her eyes boring into the detective's own. "Don't go there, okay? You can't blame yourself for this."
Olivia rocked herself silently for a moment before turning her attention toward Cragen, who had stepped away momentarily, his expression turning serious as he pressed his buzzing phone to his ear. "I need to hear this." She moved to get up, but Liz clamped her hand on Olivia's shoulder and pulled her back into the chair.
"Olivia, listen to me. Right now, you need to sit here and you need to breathe, okay? You don't need to act like a cop right now, Olivia, you need to act like a girlfriend."
Olivia looked at Liz, tears pooling hotly in her eyes. "I'm not sure I know how to do that," she whispered.
Liz straightened, sitting in the chair next to Olivia, giving her an empathetic look before placing an arm around the detective's shoulder and pulling her into her body. "You're already doing that, Olivia," she whispered. "You're already doing that."
Thank you again to all of you who consistently review. I really do appreciate (and very much use) your feedback.