Arriving at work early the next day, Elliot expected to be among the first to arrive. His expectation was dashed as he surveyed the room, seeing that everyone not only had already arrived, but also was abuzz with activity.

"What's going on?" He asked no one in particular. Munch answered.

"Our favorite human punching bag, Mrs. Mixon, is here to give her statement."

"Already?"

"She said she wanted to get it over with." Olivia added as she sifted through documents on her desk. "Melinda called, too. Mr. Mixon had a small amount of alcohol in his system, below the legal "drunk" threshold. Other than that, nothing. So he wasn't drugged. I also tracked down the co-worker she caught a ride with after the tax party and got her statement yesterday afternoon. I was about to go talk to Martha and see if I could find some discrepancies in their stories."

Elliot moved close to Olivia and leaned in confidentially, although he spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Let me get her statement."

Olivia fumbled for a tactful way to say "no way." She didn't have the chance to formulate an eloquent response before Elliot spoke again.

"I know what you're thinking, you want me to trust you, right?"

Olivia nodded enthusiastically.

"Of course."

"Then trust me. I really need to know that you trust me to handle this."

In her heart of hearts, Olivia knew she could not deny her partner anything. Still, she didn't want to seem like a push over, so she took her time answering him. This gave Elliot another speaking opportunity.

"I know you're the one who can best compare the different stories about what happened, but you can watch through the mirror. Come on." He nudged her playfully and flashed a winning, confident smile. Olivia thought he almost looked like his old self again.

"Since you put it that way."

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

Martha jumped when the door to the interrogation room opened. The shy but open expression on her face fell away when she saw Elliot enter.

"I thought that other detective was going to be talking to me."

"Yeah, well, we decided I should probably talk to you instead."

Martha pouted at the idea, but clearly resigned herself to her fate. This was a woman clearly used to giving in. Elliot sat across from Martha, his back to the large mirror Martha faced. They both knew that several pairs of eyes watched them from the other side of the mirror, and Martha tried her best to look presentable without openly preening.

"Are you comfortable? Would you like something to drink before we get started?"

"I'm fine. I just want to give my statement and get back to work. I've been out for a few days. I guess you want a timeline of where I was and when I was there."

Elliot nodded and studied her face, making Martha even more self-conscious than usual.

"Your lip is healing nicely. Looks a lot better already."

Without thinking, Martha's hand flew up to her mouth and dabbed at it lightly.

"Your husband hit you a lot, didn't he?"

"I know what you must be thinking. Why didn't I just leave? He wasn't always like… wasn't always that bad." Martha's embarrassment and guilt were obvious.

"I've seen a lot of abused people in this job. I know it's not as simple as just walking away. But your friends, the ones from your work, they seem like they were really supportive of you. That must have helped."

Martha nodded enthusiastically.

"They've been so great. I don't think I would be here without them." She beamed proudly as Elliot considered his next words carefully.

"I know how you feel."

These were loaded words, Elliot knew, and they elicited the response he expected. Martha recoiled slightly and her recent upbeat demeanor immediately shut down again.

"You don't know anything about how I feel."

"I don't know what it's like to be trapped with an abusive spouse for years, you're right. But, do you remember a news story from about a month ago, about the couple who were kidnapping college students?"

Martha looked away, searching her memory. Then she turned back to him, energized from having retrieved the information.

"The couple got caught after they kidnapped a cop, right?"

"Right. That was me." Elliot said.

Martha scowled, disbelieving.

"Pictures and names were kept out of the news, I know, but I was the one they took. My partner and I were investigating the disappearances of the college boys. One of the kidnappers saw me and got hold of my phone number. They lured me out alone someplace where they could get me. I was gone for five days. I almost died." Elliot spoke in stops and starts, not enjoying having to recount even a summary of that experience.

Martha's skepticism melted into wonder and then pity. It was the first time she had felt sorry for another person in a long time. The feeling was a good one. For some reason, it made her feel sturdier and more confident. She reached out for Elliot's hand lying on the table between them. This time, he let the person sitting across from him touch his hand.

"You poor man. You must be a very strong person to have survived that."

"Not as strong as you. I don't think I could have survived the violence that you did for as long as you did."

"Well, like you said, my friends from work have been so wonderful. I couldn't have done it without them."

"I have some pretty good friends at work here, too. They've been very supportive. They've worked hard, trying to protect me, keeping stressful things away from me. Keeping me away from stress. They even kept the details of my kidnapping a secret so that the other cops I run into every day wouldn't know what things happened to me. The ways I was tortured and humiliated."

Martha nodded knowingly.

"They sound like good people."

"They are good people, very good people." Elliot agreed. "But they've hurt me, too."

Unheard by either Elliot or Martha, Olivia caught her breath from behind the mirror and started to mutter a protestation. Realizing the ridiculous futility of it, she stopped herself before she said anything intelligible. Cragen, Munch and Fin silently continued watching from behind Olivia as Casey quietly slipped into the room and carefully closed the door behind her.

In the interrogation room, Martha's confusion was evident.

"How have they hurt you?"

"I've become isolated. Because everything's been this big secret, now those other cops I see every day look at me like I'm some kind of animal in a zoo. They don't know what happened to me, so they make stuff up and spread rumors. I'm having a really hard time doing my job because of that, because people won't deal with me on a professional level anymore. My job is one of the most important things in my life, and for the past month all I wanted to do was get back to it. But the only people I can work with right now are the detectives who found me, my partner and a few others. I think it's going to get better over time, but lately, I've barely been able to function."

"Would it have been better if they hadn't protected you?" Martha asked. Olivia voicelessly seconded that question.

"Not at first. But at least then there wouldn't have been all this speculation, and we all could have moved past it. Instead, the rumors and whisperings are going to follow me for a long time. My friends, they tried to protect me, but they've just made me weaker, made it harder to take care of myself. You know what I mean?"

Martha's uncertainty cleared after a few minutes.

"I love my coworkers. They've sacrificed a lot for me."

"The same is true about my coworkers. But as long as we continue to let them protect us, we're never going to be able to get on with our lives and stand on our own two feet. I'm never going to be myself again until I stop leaning on them. I think the same is true about you. It's time for both of us to step out from under their protection and tell the truth. I'm tired of feeling weak all the time. Aren't you?"

Martha hesitated.

"Martha, I need you to tell me the truth about what happened to your husband."

She gazed about the room, seeming like someone who had lost their way, trying to find the right way out.

"I… I don't know."

"I know you do." Elliot's voice became soft, encouraging. "Come on, stop hiding. They can't shelter you for the rest of your life. Would you want them to?"

Martha chewed on her still swollen lip nervously. At first, Elliot thought that doing this caused her to tear up, but it was something else that brought the crying back.

"It was my fault." She finally sobbed, turning sideways in her chair.

"What do you mean?"

"He… he wanted to go to the party with me that night. The one where we celebrate the end of tax season. I told Marty he couldn't go. Bailey, my boss, she said he couldn't come to the office parties anymore. So Marty wanted me to stay home with him. I told him no. I wanted to go to the party. I was so selfish." Martha fell quiet for a while, and Elliot sensed she was losing focus.

"What happened next? Did he hit you?"

"He smacked me in the mouth. Then he made a fist like he was going to hurt me really bad, but then he just stopped. He didn't speak to me for the rest of the time I was at the apartment. He locked himself in the bedroom and wouldn't come out. I had to wear the same outfit to the party that I wore to work."

"What about after the party?"

"Wendy, one of my friends from work, was going to give me a ride over to Dana's house. Dana is the woman from work who got sick. She said I could stay with her for a while, but she didn't feel well, so she left the party early. Wendy was getting her stuff together to leave when I asked her to let me stop by my apartment so I could get some clothes out of the bedroom. I wasn't able to do that before I left for the party."

"Right, because he'd locked himself in the bedroom."

"Uh-huh." Martha sniffled and continued. "Well, Wendy wasn't comfortable with letting me go back up to the apartment alone with Marty being mad at me, so she offered to come up with me, for my safety. That's when Mark said he'd come up to my apartment with me if Wendy would give him a ride home, too."

Elliot's posture snapped to attention, and he quickly glanced at the mirror behind him to deliver a silent query to Olivia.

Did you know about this?

Despite Elliot's inability to hear her, Olivia said aloud, "This is the first I've heard of that. Who's Mark?"

Almost preternaturally sensing Olivia's response, Elliot turned back to Martha.

"Who's Mark?"

"He's our runner. Just a kid, still in college. He's a very smart young man, and so sweet."

Elliot thought back to the day before, remembering the kid with the mp3 player and the books. Running the memory back like a filmstrip, Elliot could see it now: the words, "Intro to Forensic Pathology" in neat, copperplate lettering on the spine of the one of the books. Then Melinda's words floated back: "…looks like a typical, textbook example of autoerotic asphyxiation."

A textbook example was literally what that scene had been.

Martha hardly needed to explain what had happened next, but he let her tell the tale in its entirety. Wendy had waited in the car while Mark and Martha went up to Martha's apartment. When she opened the bedroom door, the shock and horror of seeing Marty hanging slackly from the light fixture over the bed nearly made Martha faint. Fortunately, Mark had been there to comfort her, and after helping her quickly gather the clothes she needed for the next few days, he had escorted her back to Wendy's car. Not telling Wendy what they found, they only asked her not to tell anyone that Mark had gotten a ride with them that night. He would find his own way back home.

Telling Martha not to worry, Mark had borrowed Martha's apartment keys and promised her he would take care of everything. The next day he had returned Martha's keys to her and simply told her that the less she knew about the details of what he had done with her husband, the better. So she had been genuinely surprised to find out the state in which he was found.

Elliot frowned.

"But why? Your husband committed suicide; all you had to do was report it. You wouldn't have been charged with anything. So why did Mark do that to your husband? Was it retribution for the way he treated you? Was it just so he'd be found in an embarrassing position?"

"No." Martha's tears continued to stream unabated. "It was his life insurance policy. He only took out the life insurance on himself about a year ago. There's a suicide exclusion, that if he kills himself within two years of the beginning of the policy, it becomes void. The son of a bitch beats me for years, and then when he finally puts an end to it, he leaves me with nothing. Nothing!"

Martha slammed her fist down on the table, and for the first time, Elliot realized that these tears weren't just a result of sadness for Marty's death, but also represented the rightful wrath that had been welling up inside her for years, until it had absolutely consumed her.

"So you and Mark ask Wendy to lie about him being with you guys that night and about stopping by your apartment, because you told Mark about the life insurance policy, and he said he knew a way to make it look like an accident, didn't he? As long as his death's an accident, you get the life insurance money. And the humiliating situation we found Marty in, that was just icing on the cake, wasn't it?"

Martha's jaw worked up and down wordlessly at Elliot's conclusion before she could formulate words.

"I never intended for him to look bad. I just wanted to have something, you know? Something to show for all those years of suffering."

Elliot sighed.

"Have you made the claim to the insurance company yet?"

"No."

"Well, don't. Or else you'll be facing insurance fraud charges. As it is, I don't know whether any charges can be brought against you for failing to report your husband's death and impeding a police investigation. You may be looking at some conspiracy charges." Elliot shrugged and shook his head. "That's up to the DA, but if you're honest with us from here in, I'll put in a good word for you."

Behind the mirror, Olivia and the others turned to Casey, standing near the back wall.

"An abused, frail woman who reacts badly to finding her dead husband hanging from the bedroom ceiling? I don't know if I want to bother. I may have to charge Mark with something, though. We'll see."

Satisfied, Olivia turned back towards the interrogation room and smiled at Elliot's success in cracking this case and getting to the truth. Knowing, Elliot turned back around to face the mirror, and returned Olivia's grin with a slow, weary smile of his own.