16th Precinct
Manhattan SVU
10:04 P.M., March 15, 2006
"If you ask me how I know Elliot, I'm not talking to you," Veronica said petulantly before George had even closed the door behind him.
"Ok," he said with a warm smile and took a seat.
She looked at him suspiciously and said, "Don't ask me how I knew to come here, either. I said before, I just knew. I felt like I had to come. It's really rather frightening, and I wish all of you would just believe me."
"I believe you," George said, and he was rewarded with a smile.
He smiled back, and got an angry frown in return.
"How dare you mock me!" she accused, and opened her portfolio to begin a new sketch.
George placed his hand over hers to prevent her from drawing. Her skin was cool to the touch.
"Let's be honest with each other, Veronica. May I call you Veronica, or would you prefer Miss Austin?"
"It's Ms. Austin, actually," she corrected him, pulling her hand away and closing the portfolio. "I reverted to my maiden name after my husband was killed in the war last Christmas. I feel like I've betrayed Matt, but Mother and Father have always thought I married beneath my station. Now that my son and I are dependent on them, I have to appease them somehow. Calling myself Veronica Austin lets them think they still control me."
"I see," George said, surprised that this stubborn woman would surrender to her parents' whims on the one hand and impressed with the way she used their own elitist ideas against them on the other. Most women would probably just get a job and do their best to get by, but if her mother and father could afford to support her, he could understand why a recent widow would prefer to stay home with her child.
Sincerely, he told her, "I'm very sorry for your loss."
Privately, he thought there was a strong likelihood that the loss of her husband combined with the pressure from her parents to forget about him had been the catalyst that initiated her stalking of Elliot. Despite his recent marital trouble, the detective was an archetypal alpha-male, a good provider and protector, who radiated strength and masculinity. It was obvious why a grieving woman would latch on to him, but if that was the case, the question now was how had she found him?
"Thank you," she said. "At least I understand the need for sacrifice. Nathan is only thirteen, and he's just devastated."
The psychiatrist in him knew he needed to stay with the interview to try and analyze Veronica. Captain Cragen was watching from the other side of the mirrored glass, and in just a moment there would be a detective looking into the military casualties from Iraq and Afghanistan to see if any of them fit into Veronica's story. Elliot himself would probably contact his children to find out if they knew Nathan. Still, the federal agent part of him was itching to check the information out himself. He wasn't competitive by nature, but in less than a minute, he had gotten more out of Veronica than Elliot and Munch had in their entire interviews and thought he might like the opportunity to gloat just the tiniest bit.
Into the silence, she said, "You may call me Veronica if you tell me your name."
Wanting her to trust him, he gave her his most encouraging smile. "My name is George."
"All right, George," she turned very businesslike, apparently not wanting to dwell on her grief, "as you suggested, let's be honest."
He raised his eyebrows, a clear 'I'm listening,' expression, and waited for her to continue.
"You don't believe me," she challenged him. "In fact, the others probably sent you in here to ferret out some truth that they all think I'm hiding. Am I right?"
George inclined his head affirmatively. So, she wasn't delusional, but she could be a sociopath. As long as she didn't turn violent, he could play her game for a while longer.
"You have to admit, it is pretty farfetched," he told her.
"I know, but if I wanted to lie to you, don't you think I would have come up with something a bit more clever?"
With a shrug, he replied, "If you're lying, it's hard to say. I guess it would depend upon your ulterior motives and just how clever you are."
"We'll I'm certainly intelligent enough to think of something better than trying to convince you that I'm clairvoyant," she said.
"I suppose you are," he agreed. "But I'm more interested in the possibility that you might be telling the truth."
"But . . . But you just admitted that you didn't believe me," she stammered.
Years of training allowed George to suppress the smug grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth when he succeeded in taking her by surprise.
"Well, 'believe' is a very emotionally charged word," he said. "As an investigator, it is difficult for me to 'believe' anything for which there is no empirical evidence. But I am capable of intellectually accepting what you say as given in order to further my inquiry."
She frowned and asked a little uncertainly, "You mean, you'll take me at my word for the sake of argument, is that it?"
"Exactly," he nodded.
"Why would you do that?"
"Well, because there is so much more I want to know, but if I wait for you to prove to me that you really can foretell Elliot's future, it'll probably be too late." If she was even a little narcissistic his curiosity about would draw her into the conversation.
"Very well, then, what do you want to know?"
He gave her a cordial smile, though he really wanted to grin. He knew he no longer had to prove himself to the detectives he worked with, but once in a while it felt good to show them that, besides being a top-notch profiler, he was also a pretty damned good interrogator.
"Why you, for example?" he asked. "Elliot has a wife and kids, friends and colleagues here who respect him and value his friendship. Why would you, a complete stranger who would otherwise never have missed him, be gifted with this special knowledge that could save his life?"
"I don't know," Veronica shrugged.
"If you did know, what would you say?" Huang liked using that question. It was a trick he had learned from one of his university instructors: Accept that the subject did not know the answer and then pressure her to respond anyway. It was irritating, but a person would usually reply, and it was often surprising how much the individual actually did know.
She scowled at him briefly, then tapped her pencil tip down onto the tabletop. As she thought about her answer, she slid her fingers down toward the point, let the pencil pivot between her fingers so that the eraser end tapped against the table, and then repeated the process.
"I guess, maybe, precisely because I don't know him," she finally said.
"What do you mean?" He asked feeling a little confused.
"Well, anyone who knows him, who knows what kind of work he does, is likely to worry about him."
Tap and slide, pivot. Tap and slide, pivot.
George nodded.
"It would be easy for one of them to ignore something like this as the product of an overactive imagination, but because I don't know him . . ."
Tap, slide, and pivot. Tap, slide, and pivot.
George nodded again.
"I wouldn't have any reason to worry about him if it weren't for the pictures I saw in my head. I guess, whatever . . . power did . . . this to me knew it would be harder to shrug off coming from a stranger."
George nodded again thoughtfully, trying to hide his disappointment that his plan had backfired. With Veronica's next sentence, things only went from bad to worse.
"Elliot said that was why he believed me," she responded sadly. "But I guess the last picture was too much for him, too real. It's hard to face your own mortality, I suppose."
"I would imagine so," George agreed, trying to hide his frustration that in trying to explode her fantasy, he had only helped her to become more entrenched in it.
"Is he still all right?" Veronica asked anxiously. "They haven't let him leave, have they?"
"The last I saw him, he was busy with some paperwork at his desk," George told her. "He isn't going anywhere for a while."
He was curious to know why she was so intent on having Elliot stay in the precinct tonight, and he'd already thought of a way to work it into the conversation.
Veronica visibly relaxed a little at that news.
"May I ask you another question?" George requested.
Veronica inclined her head, silently giving her permission.
"Why Elliot?"
At her quizzical look, he elaborated. "I am sure there are a lot of people in the city tonight who are going to have tragic, if not fatal, experiences. Why has Elliot been singled out for this special protection? With billions of people on the planet, why not someone half a world away?"
"He's a good man," Veronica said as if it should be obvious, which it was, but that wasn't sufficient for George.
"Bad things happen to good people all the time," he argued.
"He's been through a rough patch," she told him. "He deserves a break."
"Again, that's true for lot of people."
"I don't know then!" Veronica snapped. "Maybe he has a guardian angel."
"Who would that be, you?"
"Not very likely," she snorted inelegantly and shook her head.
"Then who?"
"I don't know."
"If you did know, who would it be?" He really pressed her for an explanation hoping that when she couldn't think of one, she'd have to admit that it was all just a fantasy. Then, he would be able to help her locate the resources that would assist her in coping with her loss.
"Maybe his dad?" she offered uncertainly.
George wondered who would get the unenviable task of looking into Elliot's father's history. Earlier it was obvious that the detective didn't want anyone asking questions about that, but the fact that Veronica had mentioned him a second time made it a viable avenue of inquiry. Someone would have to see if the late Officer Stabler had any connection to Veronica Austin.
"That's the second time tonight you mentioned Elliot's dad. Why? Do you know him?"
"He's . . . dead," she replied in mild confusion. "I don't know him, but . . . I know he's sorry for . . . what he did to Elliot."
"What did he do?" George knew he was pushing the limits, not only with Veronica, but, if Elliot was watching, with his friend as well.
Veronica looked like she had a dilemma now. What and how much did she need to reveal to keep the conversation going without losing her advantage? George tried not to hold his breath as he waited for her to decide.
Finally, she shook her head. "It's not my place to tell you," she said.
"Veronica, I'm his friend. I'm only here because I am trying to help you help him. The more I know the more help I can be."
Again, she was struggling to make a decision. He was content to give her all the time she needed. With the military information, her husband and son's first names, and her comments about what Elliot's dad had done, he had already opened three new areas for the squad to investigate. The longer he kept her talking, the better their chances of learning something useful.
"I know you mean well, but I can't. It's irrelevant anyway. I can only tell you that Elliot was deeply wounded by something his dad did. They're both ashamed of it, but for different reasons. Maybe someday, if he chooses to discuss it with you, you can show him a little extra compassion. Please don't ask me any more about it."
"Ok," George agreed. "We'll just assume that Elliot has a guardian angel looking out for him and that it could be his father trying to atone for something. Is that the sense you're getting?"
His words sounded absurd to his own ears, and he knew, if Munch was behind the mirror, he would laughing, but as long as Veronica accepted it, the conversation would keep moving and he might get more information from her.
Veronica shrugged. "It's possible."
"How did you know his dad was dead?"
The look she gave him asked, 'Are we really going to do this again?'
George grinned. "Let me guess. You just know it."
She nodded, the expression on her face telling him that she had nothing more to say about the matter. Apparently it was still too soon to get her to admit she'd been stalking the detective, but that was all right. George had time.
"All right then, why here?" he asked, working his way back to the matter he had been wondering about earlier.
"Because this is where he works," Veronica used a tone that implied any idiot should have realized her reason for coming to the squad.
"Naturally, but couldn't he go home? Wouldn't he be safer there?"
She shook her head and explained uncertainly, "If he went home . . . he'd be alone. He'd die alone. He has to stay here."
"Is he in danger at his house, Veronica?"
"Only if he's called away, but if he goes home, he will be called away . . . because he is closer. He must stay here."
"What will he be closer to?"
"The place where he will die," she said. "But if he stays here . . . If he stays here, he isn't closer and you can send someone else."
"But will that person die?"
"No, because they're not him."
"How do you know he's closer at home?"
"Look at my picture," she said, turning the sketch of Elliot entering the warehouse around where she could see it. In the background George could see the distinctive silhouette of the Manhattan skyline from across the East River. His eyes were automatically drawn to the sad, empty spot where the Twin Towers used to be.
"How did you know he doesn't live in Manhattan?"
Veronica puffed out an exasperated breath of air. "I just know," she said. "I know where he lives, I know he works here, I know Kathleen is in trouble, I know Maureen changed her major, I know about the divorce, and I know he's going to die if he leaves here tonight. I just know!"
Her frustration was a small victory for George. If he could keep chipping away at her confidence, questioning the source of her information, eventually she might realize how ridiculous it sounded and have to admit she'd been stalking Elliot.
He wondered what had set her off today. If she had been stalking him for a long time, why did she suddenly need to make contact with her quarry now?
"Why now?" he asked her as if the thought had just occurred to him.
"What do you mean, why now?" Veronica asked in surprise. "It's going to happen tonight. If he leaves here tonight he will die. That's why now!"
"But like you said, he's been through a rough patch lately."
It was an understatement, George knew, but he didn't want to give Veronica any details that she might not already have. In the past year or so, the guy had been held hostage twice, shot, had a meltdown and beat the living hell out of his former partner, saw his daughter busted for DUI, finalized his divorce, and lost his partner of seven years for a few weeks. It was a wonder he could get out of bed and come to work in the morning after all he'd been through!
"Why didn't you rescue him from any of his other hardships?"
Veronica glowered at him as if he were an idiot trying her patience.
"He survived that awful man in the factory, that boy with the gun in the courtroom, and the brute who hid that little girl in the box," Veronica told him and he tried not to show his surprise, "but he won't walk away from this. If he leaves this place tonight, he will die. I saw it as clearly as I see you sitting here. Please, don't let him leave."
George frowned. He was dismayed by the amount of information she seemed to have about Elliot. Somehow, having her know things about his work that the police hadn't released to the public was even more disturbing than what she knew about his private life and his family. He knew Cragen would get a detective to check with IAB and the Public Information Office to see if anything about those events had been accessed recently, but he suspected he knew what Veronica's explanation would be.
"How do you know about those things?" George asked her, hoping he sounded more curious than rattled. "That information wasn't released to the papers."
"The same way I know everything else I know about the man," Veronica said in frustration. "I just saw it!"
"I see." He traced a pattern on the tabletop with his index finger for a moment, noticed his hand was shaking, and stopped. He had the sudden feeling that there was something terribly wrong about this interview. Except for Veronica's claim that she had foreseen Elliot's death, she seemed perfectly rational. He hadn't spotted any cues that she was lying, and he still couldn't identify any underlying pathology. She didn't seem to bear any malice against Elliot, but to know what she did about his recent cases, she had to have someone inside the department helping her, and that was worrisome.
She had been surprisingly free with her personal information. If it was the truth, either she wanted to be caught and was giving them the details they needed to do it, or she wanted to frustrate them, show them she was smarter than they were, and was telling them just enough to drive them crazy. If it was false, he had either underestimated her abilities as a liar and an actress or overestimated his own skills as a psychiatrist, and he didn't like the implications of either of those possibilities.
And he especially didn't like what any of it meant for Elliot Stabler.
Author's Note: For anyone who noticed, I realize the dates of this chapter don't fall in line with some of the TV episode allusions. It's all Scrawler and Belinda's fault. I never intended to write this chapter, but they each independently mentioned that they'd like to see George's interview with Veronica. And that person who offered to bribe me--I'm still waiting for my Toll House cookies! You know who you are! J Since great minds do think alike, I decided to bow to their greatness and write it. I don't usually do requests, but I thought this one was worth exploring if only to flap the unflappable Huang.
Bad news, there might be another delay between this and my next post. Good news, that's because this chapter has spawned another one that I never intended to write. (Of course that could be good news then bad news, depending on whether you are enjoying the story. Then again, if you're not, I supposed you have stopped by now.)