NOTE: Thank you for the lovely comments on the last chapter as well as the likes and follows, they mean a lot! I enjoyed writing this chapter, here's hoping I got the Spanish right.
Rafael made sure to school his expression, letting no emotion escape from behind his neutral mask as he headed towards his office briefcase in hand. If he knew his secretary, which he liked to think he did, she would be searching his face and body language for any and all signs of how his date had gone last night and he wanted to leave her guessing for a while. He'd left around 9 o'clock the night before with assurances that he wouldn't be stingy with the details in return for the excellent bar recommendation, so Carmen would surely find his poker face annoying. He fought back a smirk. Oh, this will be fun.
His footsteps alerted his attentive secretary to his presence and she glanced up with a surprisingly serious expression that caused him to falter.
"Has the 1-6 gotten a hold of you yet?" she asked, forgoing any greeting.
"No?" His apprehension grew as he fished his phone out of his pocket. No new notifications. "Why?"
Her face was grim. "Sergeant Munch called your office about ten minutes ago to inform you that they found another victim this morning," she explained. His stomach dropped. Damn.
"Okay," he said thinking hard but taking the news in stride. His voice became clipped as he rattled off a semblance of a plan, "I'll need you to direct my calls for the day, I need to be at the precinct. I'll probably be back later this afternoon, I'll call ahead if I need to set up a meeting with my bosses."
"I'll take care of it," Carmen promised. "And Barba?"
"Yes?"
"Your poker face sucks," she grinned, "I told you it'd go well."
Benson couldn't help but sigh in relief as they left Sal in an empty interrogation room with promises that they would be back as soon as they spoke to their captain. The man's eyes had widened as the elevator doors opened revealing the tip line set up in the bullpen and he'd immediately started up with the many questions the bartender simply couldn't hold back. They'd humored him but after seeing Fin, Rollins, Barba, and the captain gathered around the screens and a corkboard with what appeared to be a map, they'd had little patience for the man's curiosity, shuffling him along towards the interrogation rooms as quickly as they could.
As the two partners walked up to the group, the squad and Barba gave nods of greeting that were returned with nods of their own, Barba and Benson holding their gaze for a beat longer than was perfectly normal. The captain turned to the two detectives expectantly, "So who was that?"
"Sal Hernandez, a bartender who saw Susan Cutler leave with a man the night she was murdered," Benson said with a hint of a smile.
Amanda let out a rush of air while Fin's shoulders dropped. "Bout time we caught a break," he said with a relief that was mirrored in everyone's expressions.
"I know," Amaro agreed, addressing the captain next, "We already have a sketch artist on the way, could be 10 minutes or 40, don't know quite yet. We've left him interrogation 2 for now so he's out of the way."
"Excellent," Cragen exclaimed, some of the worry lines in his face softening, "While we're waiting, let's get a detailed description of the man and anything he saw," he turned towards Amaro, "Amaro, you take that for now, I'll have Benson fill us in on the crime scene."
"Yes sir," Amaro said with a nod before heading to his desk to grab and pad and paper.
As her partner walked off towards the interrogation rooms, Benson surveyed the photos already on the screen sent over from CSU.
"What can you tell us?" Cragen prompted.
The crime scene swam before her eyes and her expression darkened, her anger rising again. "The vic was posed this time, left along a fairly sheltered part of a popular jogging path, and had 'Me: 5, NYPD:0' written on the top of her forearms." Her eyes met Barba's and she glanced away quickly before continuing, hating the way his eyes seemed to study hers.
She shook it off and continued, listing off the most pressing details, "When we found Jane Doe, the writing was semi-hidden as her arms were facing palm-up. There was nothing in the surrounding area to give us anything to work with, no drag marks, footprints, etc.. Other than the increase in the violence to her face, everything was consistent with his M.O."
"In other words, not much to work with," Fin said pessimistically.
"True but she did have blood under her fingernails," she paused, "Did we find out who called the tip line?"
"No, Munch traced the number back to a nearby phonebooth but the street cams never caught the person's face. We tried to follow them through the cams but we lost them after a block or two," Amanda explained, looking exasperated.
Benson nodded, biting her lip in concentration as she looked up at the corkboard which had a map with several highlighted areas. "What's this?"
"Fin and I just got back from the M.E.'s office," Rollins stated, "She got the results back on the pollen and dirt which, if you overlay areas with both samples present, gave us these areas as starting points."
"That's a lot of space to cover," Benson said with a frown as she examined the map, crossing her arms.
"Exactly," Fin said, "Which is why we're hoping to get something from our latest vic."
"Did we get something on our Jane Doe then?" Olivia asked with interest.
"She's no longer a Jane Doe," Rollins said with a smile.
"Meet Heather Cline," Fin pulled up a mug shot on the screen, "Her prints popped up in the system from when she was busted for the use of counterfeit money. We've already reached out to her only living relative, an aunt out in Arizona, she will be by sometime tomorrow."
Barba chose then to speak, looking a little impatient, "Okay now that Liv's all caught up, Fin, you were saying Melinda had something else for us?"
"Yes, like Liv said," Fin said, emphasizing Barba's use of Olivia's nickname with a curious expression (Barba cursed himself while Olivia maintained an impressive poker face), "Our vic had blood under her fingernails and it wasn't hers. Melinda already confirmed that from a quick blood type analysis," Fin explained. "She's sent the samples to the lab and has a rush on the DNA. Said she'd call as soon as she gets the results."
"Good," Barba said, hoping to gloss over his slip of the tongue, "If we get a hit on the DNA, don't worry about waiting around for a warrant, I will ensure you get one within the hour."
"If we don't get a hit," Cragen countered, "we'll need to look at Heather Cline."
"I disagree."
Everyone turned to look at Benson with varying levels of surprise and skepticism. She held her ground. "I think we've been looking at this the wrong way," Benson argued. Sensing their incoming questions—particularly from Cragen based on how high his eyebrows had risen—she pressed on, "We've been focused on his victims," she elaborated, "Trying to find our perp through them when we have two possible eyewitnesses we could be focusing on instead."
"Two?" Barba asked, confused.
Olivia nodded, "Yes, the bartender obviously, and the guy from the rental car place."
"But I thought the rental car guy didn't know shit," Fin said sounding skeptical.
Benson was quick to rebuttal, "Not really, but he said the guy paid with cash and gave a vague description of the guy."
"Only a vague description?" Barba questioned, one eyebrow raised, "That doesn't exactly distill confidence in his reliability as a witness, detective."
"I know but we've hit a dead-end with our vics," Olivia said dejectedly, running her hand through her hair to calm herself. "And vague or not, he still saw him, still talked to him. We can at least bring the sketch to jog his memory," Olivia argued, her voice growing more confident as she spoke, "This guy saw him back when he was still fresh, after his first victim. Getting caught on that security cam was the only mistake he made before now. Maybe we missed something earlier."
Fin, who had started nodding along, spoke, "I agree with Benson. It's worth a shot." Rollins nodded as well, turning to Cragen.
The captain seemed deep in thought as his detectives looked to him for answers. He searched their faces before giving a sharp nod. "Okay." The tension in Benson's shoulders melted away. "Rollins and Fin will still look into our 5th vic but this sounds promising. It's getting late in the day, you and Amaro should get over there before they close. But first, a word detective?"
"Okay Cap," Benson said cautiously, unable to stop her eyes from flicking to Barba who's forehead had nearly imperceptible crinkles of worry as he appeared to be scanning the crime scene photos on the screen. Fin and Rollins eyed her curiously before gravitating towards their desks to look into their latest vic as she followed Cragen.
As she stepped through the door, she clenched her fists tightly before releasing them to turn to her superior officer.
His face was stony. "Could you close the door?" he asked quietly before moving behind his desk, gripping the back of his chair.
She gave him a questioning look as she pulled it shut behind her. "Is everything okay, cap?"
"No, Olivia, it's not," he said with a stern look. "I asked you to run leads from the tip line yesterday and instead you disappeared leaving Amaro to deal with the call from the husband." As she opened her mouth to speak, he cut her off. "I'm not interested in what the hell you were doing for 20 minutes, but if you have to, what was it 'step outside?' you need to do more than text Amaro and you need to run it by me."
Olivia kept her face neutral, pushing aside her guilt. "I'm sorry Captain, it won't happen again."
"No, it won't. If I get the sense you're not up to this, I will pull you from this case." Olivia's stomach dropped as he paused to let it sink in. "Now get Amaro and get out of here. I expect to be briefed when you get back."
Olivia could only nod through the guilt bubbling in her stomach before she turned and left silently, unsurprised when she didn't find Barba where she'd left him.
Amaro left Sal with the sketch artist before heading towards the bullpen, impatient to grill Olivia about what he'd missed. A quick glance of the bullpen immediately clued him into the absence of his partner and he looked questioningly at Barba who was the only one still at the screens, Fin and Rollins currently in the midst of a heated conversation at their desks. Nick didn't bother clearing his throat before he spoke, "Barba."
The lawyer jumped a bit, his head whipping towards Nick with a slightly irritated expression. He recovered quickly. "Detective," Barba drawled.
"Where's Liv?" Nick asked bluntly.
"In with the captain," he responded just as sharply, subtly avoiding Amaro's eyes by jerking his head towards the door.
Amaro frowned before he nodded, coming to a decision. This would probably be the best opportunity he'd have to set things straight, "Good because we need to talk."
Barba's eyebrows shot up before his eyes narrowed. "Oh, we do, do we?"
"Yes." Nick's voice left no room for questioning.
Barba looked around, taking in the sight of the several officers and the other detectives before facing Amaro who was staring him down stubbornly, his jaw set. "Fine," Rafael spat out. "Not here."
"Fine," Amaro shot back, "Follow me."
Barba hated the strange sense of deja vu as Amaro turned around and swore to God he'd kill the man if Amaro brought him up to that fucking roof. He relaxed some as the detective turned instead towards the interrogation rooms, leading him past one where he caught sight of the gangly bartender talking animatedly to who he guessed was a sketch artist out of the corner of his eye. Rafael followed Amaro into an empty interrogation room, swallowing the sense of impending doom before choosing to settle on an expression of extreme annoyance.
"So what now?" Barba asked aggressively, refusing to move to sit at the table or move across from where the detective was staring him down with his arms crossed. "Are you here for the 'don't touch my partner' speech?"
"I don't care about that, Liv could take you any day," Nick stated while Rafael silently agreed. "But if you hurt her..." his voice trailed off threateningly.
"You'll what? ¡No te incumbe, Detective!" It's none of your business, detective!
"¿Estás jugando?" Are you kidding me? Amaro retorted. "Of course it is! She's my partner!"
Barba's eyebrows shot up, "¿Y qué?" So what? "Liv is her own person, she doesn't need you to ser un héroe." be a hero.
"I know that! I'm just looking out for my partner!" Nick scowled.
"Fine," Barba rolled his eyes. "Consider me warned if that will help you sleep at night."
"I'm serious Barba."
"So am I," he retorted. "I'm not fucking around here!" Amaro's eyes narrowed as Barba shifted awkwardly. "Are you done?" he demanded.
Nick noted the light flush of the counselor's cheeks and the discomfort he tried to hide behind his annoyance. "We're done," he stated, less aggressively this time, "Don't fuck it up."
Barba scoffed. "Wow it's almost like that's the plan, detective," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He turned and pushed the door open, not looking back, only to lock eyes with the very person they'd just been arguing over.
"Liv!" Rafael exclaimed, surprised.
Olivia was frozen in the hallway, eyes wide with mutual surprise, clearly having been searching for one or both of them. She said nothing, and he grimaced as her eyebrows rose higher watching her partner enter the hallway out from behind him. Both men had the decency to look abashed as her eyes narrowed as they flicked between the two. "Having fun?" she snarked, crossing her arms, dryly amused by their clear discomfort.
Barba was quick to speak, glaring at her partner. "Not at all, actually."
The corners of her mouth twitched upwards by their own accord as Amaro's worry morphed into a scowl. Barba's face, on the other hand, relaxed at her expression. He gave her a slight smirk.
"Whatever that was," Olivia said, gesturing at them, "I don't want to know." She turned to Nick. "We need to leave soon, we need the sketch and then we're talking to the car rental guy."
Amaro recovered quickly, not even questioning the new information in his eagerness to avoid his partner's scrutinizing stare. "Good, I'll, uh, go let Sal and the artist know we need the sketch," he said before escaping down the hallway at an unusually brisk pace.
Barba watched his retreat with amusement before Olivia spoke quietly, "Nice slip of the tongue earlier. I thought the whole purpose of avoiding 'Benson' during personal time was so you could actually use it at work, counselor, not Liv."
"Ah, well," Rafael rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly before catching sight of her soft smile. She's teasing me, he realized with an alarming amount of fondness. He quickly shoved the thought away for later, "Did Cragen go hard on you?"
"About disappearing yesterday, yes," she elaborated.
"Mm," he hummed in understanding. Cragen didn't suspect anything. There was a pause as he studied her face, sensing some of her residual guilt. Barba found himself thinking back on the flash of anger and pain he'd seen in her eyes as Olivia had described the crime scene. "How are you?" he asked softly.
She gave him a sharp look. "Not here," Olivia said quietly but firmly. "I can't."
He understood. "Okay, Liv."
"Later," she promised.
His expression softened. "Okay," he paused, not wanting to seem overeager, but his genuine concern won, "I'll be in a meeting with my bosses for a while but I'll be free tonight," he said hopefully.
"I'll probably be on call," she frowned, "Depends if this lead goes anywhere." Her eyes closed in frustration.
Rafael reached out quickly, grabbing her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze before dropping it suddenly. He spoke a little louder than normal as he nodded at her, "I'll see you later Detective."
Olivia glanced over her shoulder to see Amaro headed towards her with a comically disgusted look on his face. "Bye Barba."
Amaro joined her as Rafael headed towards the captain's office. "The sketch artist said to give her 5 and then we're good to go," he hesitated slightly before gesturing down the hallway, "He's not so bad."
Olivia oggled him with disbelief. She knew how the ADA aggravated her partner. "What the hell happened in there?"
"I thought you didn't want to know," he countered.
"Fine, fine," she acquiesced. Nick shook his head but couldn't help grinning as he caught her mumbled reply, "Sneaking off... Now who's the distracted one?"