In the car again, this time on the way to the apartment where Martha was supposed to be staying with her co-worker, Olivia looked at her watch and thought of a new topic.

"We're into the afternoon. You want to grab some lunch?"

"No, we'd better just go find this woman. The sooner the better." Elliot sounded distant and distracted.

"Are you sure it's a good idea for you to skip lunch? I know you didn't have anything for breakfast."

How does she know that?

Aloud, Elliot shot back, "Thanks, Mom, but I'm fine."

The rebuke stung Olivia, and against better judgment she said, "Have I pissed you off? If I have, I'm sorry, but I don't get your attitude towards me right now."

Olivia shook her head and stared out of the passenger side window.

"Why can't things just be the way they were before?"

Elliot didn't answer, but several minutes later slammed the brakes in front of the apartment building where they were supposed to find the elusive Mrs. Martha Mixon. Olivia stumbled out of the car.

"Maybe I should drive for the rest of the day."

Just inside the building, the detectives immediately noticed a sign covering the elevator doors, "Out of Service."

"Great." Olivia huffed. She barely had time to turn around before she noticed Elliot already bounding up the stairs, taking two at a time and quickly leaving her behind. The apartment was on the sixth floor, so Olivia steeled her tired body and started up after Elliot. She was surprised when she managed to catch up to him on the third floor, and upon reaching the fourth floor, she glanced around to realize she stood there alone. She turned around just in time to see Elliot stumble, then partly lean, partly fall backwards into the corner of the landing between the third and fourth floors. Olivia ran back down the stairs and grabbed her partner's shoulder as he slid down the wall. He covered his face with the crook of his left arm and roughly pushed Olivia away with the other.

"My God, Elliot. What's the matter?"

Breathlessly he said, "Just give me a minute. I'm fine. Just… don't touch me."

Olivia continued to hover over him.

"Is it your leg? Can I get you something? What's going on? Talk to me."

Elliot squirmed painfully as he struggled to synchronize his thoughts and speech.

Finally he said, "I think I'm having a flashback, okay? I… just give me a minute, will you?"

Olivia stepped away and searched the surrounding floors and doorways for anyone who might be listening, watching, or – God forbid – recording this scene. She felt vaguely guilty, as though they were doing something illegal and might get caught. That was absurd, of course. Elliot hadn't done anything wrong; the hallucinogens in his system had been forced on him. Olivia wondered how long he would have to pay the price for something he'd had no control over.

After several minutes, Elliot pulled himself to his feet and vigorously rubbed both sides of his face with his hands, as though to bring back the circulation. The effect of the episode was unsettling; he still seemed wild-eyed and now his face burned with too much blood on the surface.

"I'm all right;" he said, "come on, let's go."

Uncertain, Olivia nevertheless followed his slow progress up the remaining stairs to the sixth floor. Elliot started to knock on the door when she stopped him.

"I want you to know that I've got your back. What happened back there, as far as I'm concerned, it didn't happen. You don't have to worry about me saying anything to the Captain or anyone else."

"Since when do you have to reassure me that you're going to be a stand-up partner?"

Without giving her a chance to respond, Elliot knocked. They loudly identified themselves as police the second time they had to rap on the door. At last someone answered. The woman who appeared at the door could have been the occupant, Martha Mixon's co-worker, but Olivia and Elliot immediately knew that this was the woman they had been looking for.

She had been pretty once, but her skin sagged as though it wanted to escape her ragged body. Her sallow complexion housed haunted eyes that spun from one detective to the other, frightened and confused. Her lip still bulged from what was obviously a fairly recent injury; makeup covered any discoloration that may have still been present.

"I'm sorry I didn't answer the door sooner. I was fixing a snack for my friend. She's sick."

"That's okay. Can we come in? We need to talk to you, Mrs. Mixon."

Martha opened the door wider, allowing the detectives to enter the small, unremarkable apartment. After introducing themselves, Olivia continued in a soft voice.

"Mrs. Mixon, when did you last see your husband?"

"Oh, um, a few days ago, before I went to the tax season party at work. I went by to pick up some things so I could come here afterwards. I, um, needed to get away for a while." Martha touched the corner of her mouth self-consciously.

"Mrs. Mixon, I'm sorry to tell you this, but your husband was found dead this morning in your apartment." Olivia watched tears spontaneously steam silently and easily down cheeks that had seen too many tears already.

"What happened?" Martha asked though gasping breaths.

"Actually, we were hoping you could tell us. He was found in a very, er, unusual position."

Martha shook her head, not understanding. Elliot sighed impatiently.

"He was found hanging from a belt and wearing women's underwear. Know anything about that?"

Olivia sharply elbowed Elliot as Martha's previously subdued sobs turned into racking, wailing cries. Giving Elliot a parting, withering glance, Olivia moved closer to Martha in a comforting gesture.

"I don't know. I don't know anything about that." Martha said, gasping.

Olivia continued her questioning in a gentle tone.

"Did your husband have any enemies? It seems he wasn't well liked by a lot of people."

"I can't think of anyone who would do that. Who would do such a thing?"

"Did you have a life insurance policy on your husband?" Elliot asked.

"Well, yes, but it wasn't for much. I didn't stay with Marty for money."

At that moment, Martha's co-worker appeared around the corner, wrapped in a blanket and splotchy from congestion.

"What's going on out here? Martha, are you okay?"

Martha nodded.

"I'm fine. Just go back to bed. I'll bring you a snack in a minute."

Olivia turned to the sickly woman and asked, "Excuse me, but how long has Mrs. Mixon been staying with you here?"

"Since the night of the office party."

"And were you the one who gave her a ride home?"

"No. It was Wendy who gave you lift over here, wasn't it?"

Martha nodded affirmatively.

Martha's coworker concluded, "I left the party early. I wasn't feeling well."

"Right. Thanks." Olivia parted from Martha and started towards the door. Elliot took the cue to also stand and move to leave.

"We're going to need you to come down to the station," Elliot handed Martha a card, "and make a full statement tomorrow morning, no later than ten a.m. Understand?"

The pitiful woman nodded, staring at the address in her hand. She didn't look up as the detectives took their leave.

----------------------

Once again in the car, Olivia wasted no time in confronting her partner.

"What was that?"

"What?"

"You acted like you hated that woman. Since when do we work that way? The second you turned on her she clammed up and got defensive. If she did know anything, we'll have a hell of a time getting it out of her now."

"I changed my mind." Elliot said.

"About?"

"About what you said earlier, that the victim's wife got fed up with him knocking her around and so she set out to kill him and humiliate him. I think you may be right after all."

"That's funny. I was just thinking the same thing about what you said. There's no way that pitiful creature in there would or, for that matter could, overwhelm her husband and string him up, then lay him out like that. She could barely bring herself to answer the door; she didn't do this, I guarantee it."

Elliot scoffed.

"Maybe not by herself, but she's not the poor, innocent thing you think she is. Mark my words, Olivia, she knows something, and she's involved."

"Super. So if we assume that she killed him with an accomplice, that narrows the possible list of suspects to pretty much anybody who knew her and hated her husband for beating her. Which could be half the city, for all we know."

Elliot took a moment to ponder this, then changed the subject slightly.

"How about we go by the ME's office and see if Melinda found anything?"

Olivia yawned and reclined her seat back slightly, causing Elliot to reconsider his suggestion.

"Or, maybe we should just go talk to this Wendy who gave Martha a ride over here."

"It's getting late, Elliot. Why don't we just head back to the office? We can call to set up an interview from there. I just want to end this day before it gets any worse."

"It's only mid-afternoon." Elliot's protest went unanswered, and so he steered the car towards their homebase.