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"Welcome back, Alexandra. I'm glad to see I haven't scared you off," the psychiatrist laughed.
"Alex, please. Only my bosses and my pretentious family call me Alexandra. And you didn't. Besides, Olivia would have ripped my head off if I didn't come back. She's the only person I ever lose an argument with, and she's not even an attorney."
"She sounds remarkable."
"She really is," Alex beamed. "But everyone knows that. Her whole squad would do anything for her because she's gone above and beyond multiple times."
"For example?" Dr. Rosen looked up from above her reading glasses, perched precariously on the tip of her nose.
"She's practically walked through fire for them! I mean, for every thousand people she helps a hundred creeps attack her right back. She's had her throat cut, she's been beaten, not to mention verbally assaulted, but she never even flinches. She's been undercover for them too. When she worked undercover as an environmentalist she was a victim of police brutality, but didn't blow her cover even when she woke up in a hospital bed. She also went to some women's prison once, but she doesn't really talk about that."
"I suppose as a frequent victim herself, she's been very good about relating to you."
"Well, that, and being a sex crimes detective. She always knows exactly what to say."
"And do you feel safe with her?"
"Safer than I ever felt, even when the WitSec program was watching me day and night."
"Mr. and Mrs. Harrington, are you aware of the threats that your son-in-law received during your daughter's trial?" Olivia was seated on a cozy loveseat in the humble Harrington home, across from Mary and Steven Harrington, a couple which looked to be in their early sixties. She studied Mary closely, flinching when she briefly saw a flash of Gillian Hardwicke in her face.
"Yes, detective, Brett did tell us about the letter he got. He was very nervous about it, which I guess he was right to be. But we told him it probably wasn't serious," Steven replied.
"No, no, you did," Mary butted in bitterly. "You told him it wasn't serious. I told him that if he thought it was legitimate to contact the authorities but no, he listened to you. And what happened? He ends up dead just like our little girl," she snapped.
"Ma'am, please do try to stay calm. We need your full cooperation so we can find out what happened to Jackie and Brett and their lawyers," Olivia said.
"Their lawyers?" Steven asked, unaware that Olivia knew of Gillian's relation to the pair. "What happened to the lawyers?"
"Oh…" Olivia started, dragging out a breath. "I assumed you had watched the news and heard about it. I'm sorry to tell you that both attorneys representing the people in the case against Andrew Morrison were found dead."
"But…no, that can't be. My niece was one of those attorneys," Mary shook her head.
"Yes. The two people we found are ADAs Garret Frazier and…Gillian Hardwicke. I'm so sorry, Mrs. Harrington," Olivia bit her lip.
"No, no, no, Jilly's not dead. I would've heard about it…"
"Are you sure, Detective?" Steven asked warily.
Olivia simply nodded, a sullen expression on her face. This was the worst part of her job. Not finding dead bodies, not even talking to victims. It was telling people that thanks to the monsters of the world, someone they loved had their lives changed or ended forever.
"Excuse me, I just need to…" Mary was unable to finish the statement as tears blocked her vision and choking sobs clogged her throat. The woman quickly stood and left the room.
"Who killed Gillian?" Steven asked angrily. "Was it the same bastard who killed Jackie? The same punk who shot Brett?"
"We're trying to find that out, Mr. Harrington. For now, I just need to know if you've received any similar threats at all."
"No," he responded, sighing as a single tear dropped from his eye and crawled down his cheek. "But I do have something you might be interested in. When Brett came to us about the threat, he left the letter with us. Said he didn't want to look at it anymore."
"I will need to see that, thanks."
Steven nodded and walked out of the room towards the stairs. Meanwhile, Olivia was somewhat confused. Why wouldn't Brett want to keep the letter if he had thought at all about telling the police? Why leave it with his in-laws…unless he knew that he was as good as dead and just wanted someone to keep the evidence. But he couldn't have known that, right?
She was roused from her thoughts when Steven reentered the room, a yellow sheet of notepad paper in his hand. "Here's the letter," he announced in a gravelly voice.
Olivia took the letter and held it in front of her eyes. In what looked to be the same handwriting as the letter they found in Hardwicke's desk, this was written:
Very cute, Junior Nancy Drew. Too bad you're not a real cop; then you'd at least have a chance to defend yourself when we come for you.
"Wonderful," Olivia murmured. "I really appreciate this, Mr. Harrington. We've placed a protective detail on the two of you to ward off any attacks that may have been planned for you, so you will have at least one officer on the premises at all times. If you feel unsafe at all, give me a call," she said, handing her card to the stoic man.
"Will do," he replied. "You will figure this out, right?"
"We have some of the best detectives in the city working this case, sir."
"Good." He walked over to a shelf of pictures, picking one frame up and bringing it back to where the detective sat. "Gillian and Jackie were more than just cousins, you know. They were like best friends. Jill was maid of honor at Jackie's wedding, you see." Olivia looked at the bright, happy picture of Jackie Stern in a long, flowing wedding gown and Hardwicke in a simple lavender dress as they smiled and embraced. Steven continued, "In her speech, Gillian said she would die for Jackie, just as a term of endearment of course. Who the hell knew she really would."
"We'll get justice for both of them, Mr. Harrington, I give you my word," Olivia promised.
"I know you will. And if we can be of any more help, do let us know." He looked up to see Mary hovering over the staircase banister, looking at him. "I do have to go see to my wife, however. It seems we have another funeral to plan."
"So you got another letter. Is the handwriting the same as Hardwicke's letter?" Alex puffed out while lifting a particularly heavy suitcase out of Olivia's car. A few days ago, they had agreed that Olivia would move in with Alex, and although they'd work on selling the detective's sparse furniture at some point in the near future, they wanted to get all of Olivia's clothing and personal items over to Alex's place.
"It looks the same, but of course I'll have to send it to the techs for confirmation. I bet if we do some digging, we'll find a similar letter for Garret Frazier," Olivia replied, taking the suitcase from Alex. "Here, you can take a lighter one, hon."
"I'm not weak, Liv, I can handle your clothes," Alex rolled her eyes, but didn't stop her girlfriend from claiming the heavy suitcase. She instead pulled out a lighter toiletry bag. "Did you get a writing sample from Andrew Morrison?"
"They already had a sample in the file. It didn't match Hardwicke's and I doubt it'll match this one."
"So he's just a pawn in this whole thing."
"Not necessarily, he's just not the one writing the letters. I wish he was, though, because then at least we'd have a reason to arrest him for the threats, and we could bring him in," Olivia sighed. They entered Alex's apartment, and Olivia gladly set the suitcase down.
"You're NOT going to leave that here, are you?" Alex smirked.
"No…" Olivia whined, dragging the duffel bag towards Alex's bedroom. "You do realize you're going to have to clean your closet out if there's any chance of my crap fitting in there, right?"
"That's doable, half that stuff is from the nineties and completely out of style," Alex mused, following Olivia.
"Sweetheart, I still had parachute pants from college in my closet. But thanks for making me feel super old, yet again," Olivia winked. Seeing Alex's apologetic frown and the blonde's mouth about to open, she planted a kiss on Alex's lips until the pout gave way to a laugh. "Just kidding," Olivia chuckled.
"Just tell me you didn't bring the parachute pants here with you? I have a reputation to uphold and it doesn't involve terrible eighties trends in my closet," Alex joked, earning an elbow to the ribs. "Ouch, Liv!" The attorney laughed again and dropped the bag she'd been carrying in the bathroom. "So that's it. You're all moved in. Welcome to the Cabot/Benson residence."
"Wow," Olivia said aloud, looking around at the place she already knew very well, but now had to see in a new light. It wasn't just Alex's place anymore, it was hers too. Her mail was going to come here. When she had to write her address down on a document, it was going to be this one. She was living with Alexandra Cabot.
Alex took Olivia's hand and sat down on the bed, pulling the detective in front of her and gently kissing the tired detective's neck, trying to soothe the tension of the last few days away. "What are you doing with your apartment?"
"I guess I'll keep it until we sell all the furniture, and then I'll just stop paying the rent," Olivia laughed. "Seems pretty simple."
"Definitely, considering the fact that if I moved in with you, I'd have to sell the whole apartment," Alex replied, rubbing Olivia's shoulders.
"You own this place?" she asked incredulously.
"I sort of inherited it from my aunt. I mean, I did buy it, but she gave me a hell of a deal," the blonde laughed quietly.
"Well I'm glad we did it, either way. Now we really know we're in this for the long haul," Olivia said, shooing away her commitment-phobic thoughts.
"I already knew, Liv. I knew it the minute we got together."
"How could you have known?" Olivia laughed. "Everyone knows I'm a runner."
"Of course I know that. But it's convenient enough for me, because everyone knows I'm a chaser," Alex smiled, leaning in to peck the detective's cheek. Hearing Alex's poignant words, Olivia turned her head to meet Alex's lips, resulting in a kiss much more heated than the attorney's chaste intentions. At the sudden change in events, Alex's hands moved down from Olivia's shoulders to cup her breasts.
"And if you'd like, right now I think I'll chase you right off the edge," Alex grinned, kneading the soft mounds between her fingers.
Olivia groaned. This woman was going to be the death of her, but oh, what a way to go.
Yay, domestic partnership!