Disclaimer: Still don't own 'em. However, deal's still on the table, Mr. Wolf ;)
AN: Thanks for the reviews, I didn't expect such a strong response. They give me a warm and tingly feeling, so please keep them coming ;) And suggestions/constructive criticism are always welcome.
Nita - The only ships in this story are going to be of the USS Friend variety, so don't worry.
*
The first questions Olivia had asked were about family. She hoped to find someone safe, someone Sara already knew, that she could stay with. Unfortunately, it wasn't much of a surprise when the girl had no one. Her mother had left seven years ago, when Sara was only eight, leaving her at the mercy of her father. It appalled her that anyone could be so callous. Just because she saw it far too often didn't make it any less tragic.
Olivia stayed close while the EMTs, and later the nurses, looked after Sara. The girl held her hand in a vice grip as the bruises on her chest, arms, and legs were photographed for evidence. She gave the same encouragements that she had to countless other victims, meaning them just as much as she ever had. "You're doing great." "They're almost done." "You're very brave."
Sara only stared forward blankly.
The rape kit was difficult. Sara didn't hinder them, but Olivia found it hard to watch as the child dissociated. She stared down at her unbandaged arm and the scars that adorned it. Looking at them made her expression go blank. Olivia wasn't sure if she was remembering past injuries, or imagining future ones. It saddened her to think that this girl found comfort from her own pain, and she wasn't sure how to deal with it. She wanted to pull her attention away from the old wounds, but Olivia worried about upsetting her during the exam. It was difficult enough without complicating things further.
Olivia looked down at her watch, past three A.M. They had been called to the apartment just after eleven.
"It's late now, you should get some rest," Olivia said.
Sara blinked as though clearing the fog from her eyes. She turned to Olivia, her voice holding a distant quality even though they were only a couple feet apart. "Oh, um, yeah. You're going?"
"Only for a little while. I need to go help my partner." The girl drew up her knees, pulling her hand away from Olivia. She continued, trying to comfort Sara. "I'll be back in the morning. We'll take your statement then, ok?"
Sara nodded slowly.
Olivia gave her shoulder a soft squeeze and smiled reassuringly before leaving the room. When the door clicked shut behind her, she let out a sigh.
"That good, huh?" Elliot stood from the plastic chair pushed up against the wall.
"Not quite the word I would use."
He gave a sympathetic half-smile as they walked towards the exit. "How is she?"
"Bruises from a struggle. They did chest x-rays and found a fractured rib. Rape kit's on its way over to the lab, so we'll see what that gets us." Olivia went straight to the passenger seat, and Elliot raised a brow. It wasn't often they didn't fight over who had the wheel.
He slid in, turning the key in the ignition. "And the other stuff?"
"Twenty-five stitches. Managed to miss all the arteries and veins, but some of them were pretty nasty." Olivia had watched the entire process with overwhelming sadness. The stitches had been the only part where Sara had closed her eyes. She didn't once look over while the doctor worked, and a few tears escaped her eyes. Even with the anesthetic, she grimaced with each tug of the suture material, clearly warring with shame and embarrassment. Olivia had found it even more disturbing than the rape kit.
The rest of the drive to the precinct was done in silence. They'd interrogate the father, and pick up on canvassing at a more reasonable hour when people were less likely to brush them off.
She had barely made it into the bullpen and to the coffee pot before Munch came in.
"Got yourselves a real charmer, there," he said, rolling his eyes.
"Oh yeah, he should be sainted," Elliot replied.
"He's had some choice expletives to hurl in your general directions since he's been stuck in the interrogation room. And apparently all of our badges are on the line and we've made a horrible mistake."
"Right." Olivia could almost laugh at that. After what she had seen, there was no doubt in Olivia's mind.
"So what do we know about this guy?" Elliot asked.
Munch handed over the file he had collected. "Eric Holden is a stock analyst for a small firm on Wall Street. Some collars for vandalism and other petty stuff as a juvie, but other than that just the occasional moving violation, all paid for. By all records, a fine and upstanding member of society."
"Which is a load of crap."
When they arrived at the interrogation room, they saw Holden pacing behind the table, muttering and swearing under his breath. He wore only the tank and shorts he had been arrested in, with the hastily added shoes still untied. Olivia's brow furrowed as she tracked his movements.
Elliot turned to Cragen, who was also standing in the observation room. "He hasn't asked for a lawyer?"
"Not yet. Barely has time to in between curses."
"So he's not that smart," Olivia concluded.
"He's not going to get any more jarred than he is already, so go in there and see what you can get."
Elliot entered first, an insincere smile on his face. "Sorry to keep you waiting so long, Mr. Holden, we got caught up."
"You better have a damn good reason for bursting into my house in the middle of the night," Holden's face was red with rage.
"I assure you, Mr. Holden," Olivia kept her voice low and even, suppressing her own anger, "that we take abuse cases very seriously."
"That's slander!" His hands slammed down against the table for emphasis.
"We're just doing our jobs, Mr. Holden. A neighbor called nine-one-one, and even the operator could hear the disturbance. We have no choice but to take it seriously until all the facts come in," Elliot soothed.
"But I think we all know what those facts will be," Olivia added.
"I never laid a finger on that girl."
"'That girl'? She's your daughter."
Finally Holden sat down, turning his head to the wall as he answered. "As if I could forget."
"Being a single parent is hard," Elliot said.
"She's been trouble from day one. I can't keep her straight."
"I guess holding her down so tightly you fracture a rib isn't the way to go." Olivia crossed her arms tightly, feeling her control starting to slip. She couldn't believe the audacity. How could he think denying everything would get him out of this mess?
"What? She probably did that shit to herself. Always cutting herself up and shit, it's disgusting. I can't be held responsible for the crap she tries to pull." Holden looked bored as he spoke.
"Self-mutilation is a serious thing, Mr. Holden. Have you ever tried to get Sara help?" Elliot asked.
"What she needs is to get her head out of her ass. She just wants people to feel sorry for her."
"Why's that?" Olivia snapped.
"Probably got it from her mother. Always wanted attention. Teenage girls like to cause drama, hell, women do too. So she's just yanking your chain."
"And the disturbance?"
"We were arguing. Parents and their children argue all the time. It's not a crime." They way he responded made it clear he had used similar excuses before. Apparently effectively enough to keep those that Sara had tried to reach out to satisfied.
"Raping her is. Or are you going to try and tell me that's self-inflicted too?"
"Rape? She said I raped her? That ungrateful little bitch!" Holden stood up again.
"Sit down, Mr. Holden!" Elliot's voice was firm. The two men stared at each other for a moment before Holden slowly lowered back into his chair. "You need to calm down so you can help us sort this all out."
"I didn't rape her. She's not exactly a virgin. Probably some kid she hangs out with."
"Name?" Olivia prodded.
"I don't know them. I don't want to know."
"One more question, Mr. Holden," Elliot began, "why did your wife leave?"
Olivia frowned at his reply, seeing the lie for what it was. "Probably got sick of the kid. Wanted a fresh start."