"Someone's looking awfully chipper this morning."

Olivia glanced up from her salad to look at Munch, who was standing next to her desk. She resisted the urge to wipe the annoying all knowing smirk from his face. "I'm no different than normal, John," she replied.

"Oh no, not at all, you're just a thousand times happier," came his reply.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "No different than normal," she repeated. If she were to admit to being happier than usual, then the guys would ask why, and Olivia had little desire to tell them she was sleeping with AND engaged to Casey. It was more protection for Casey than anything. Olivia knew the men would never leave the attorney alone about it. Olivia imagined what John would say. "You bagged Benson, huh? Nice going, Casey. Nice going." For the second time that minute, Olivia found her eyes traveling to the ceiling. Yeah, that settled it. No way in hell was she going to let this get out.

"Maybe she finally got some," Amaro quipped from his desk.

Olivia choked on her salad. When she managed to stop coughing, she glared at him through watering eyes. "Maybe certain male detectives should mind their own business," she snapped, snapping her lunch shut. Well, breakfast. It was only ten AM after all. Ignoring the chorus of "ooohs", that followed her, Olivia grabbed her coat and purse and stalked out of the squadroom. "Men," the detective muttered to herself. And if they were that immature about their theory that she was suddenly happy because she had gotten laid, she didn't even want to think about how they would react if they found out who she had gotten laid by. Pausing just outside the elevator, Olivia took her phone out of her pocket and opened a new text message. "Hey, honey," she typed. "How is my beautiful fiancée this morning?" Addressing the message to Casey, Olivia hit send and smiled softly to herself, immediately lapsing back into her own thoughts.

If she were to be completely honest with herself, Olivia knew that it was sort of a turn on having a secret relationship with the ADA. Keeping her male coworkers guessing all the time was a bonus, but what Olivia most loved was the knowledge that Casey Novak was officially hers, nobody else's.

"Olivia!" Olivia pulled out of her thoughts. Turing around, she found herself face to face with her partner. "What do you want, Amaro?" she asked, her voice still retaining a trace of coldness. "If this is any more jokes about me getting laid, you can just turn around and take them back into that squadroom, got it?"

"No more jokes," Amaro replied, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I said in there. It was uncalled for." He paused for a moment, as if he was hesitant about his next thought. "But Munch was right," he added. "You have been in a really great mood these last few days, and today is the best mood I have ever seen you in."

Olivia folded her arms across her chest, shifting her weight to the other side of her body. "Things change, Detective. Everybody goes through things that make them ecstatic and also things that reduce them to tears. Just because someone is happier than normal, contrary to what you apes think, does not mean they 'got some'. And even if I did, that is none of your business. You'll do well to remember that. Understand?" As Amaro nodded mutely, Olivia smiled. "Good." With that, she turned around and made her way back into the squadroom. Just as she reached her desk, she was alerted by a voice behind her.

"Detective Benson?"

Olivia looked behind her, her gaze falling upon a disheveled blonde with cloudy brown eyes. "How can I help you?"

"I'm Janine, Catherine's sister," the blonde answered. "I wasn't sure who to talk to, but I can't hold back any longer, especially now that my baby sister is dead."

Olivia nodded. "Come with me," she replied, leading Janine through the squadroom and into an empty interview room. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it as Janine took a seat in an empty chair. "Can I get you anything?" she asked.

"No, thank you," Janine murmured, her gaze focused on the floor.

Olivia sighed, locking the door. Walking over to the table, she sat down across from the girl, who she guessed to be no older than twenty one. "Janine, can you tell me why you came here?" she asked. "You said you can't hold back any longer, now that your sister is dead. What did you mean by that?"

Janine sniffled, wiping a fresh stream of tears. As Olivia handed her a box of tissues, she took a deep breath, in an obvious attempt to try to calm herself. "I left home the day I turned eighteen," she answered after a few moments, when she was composed enough to speak. "My mom died when I was nine. Catherine was only four at the time. Dad handled things well, until he was laid off from his job. Suddenly, he started drinking all the time, and spending what little money we had on booze and cigarettes. And when it came time to pay the bills, and he had no money, he blamed my sister and me. One night, after we had gone to bed, he came into the room we shared and-" Janine's voice broke.

"Take your time," Olivia said gently.

Janine nodded. After a few seconds, she continued. "That night was the first time he molested us. I remember Catherine crying and saying 'Stop Daddy, it hurts!' But he wouldn't. From that point on, he came in every single night, sometimes several times a night. He would crawl into our beds, do what we wanted, and leave. And he always said if we ever tried anything, nobody would believe us. They would just chalk it up to the wild imaginations of two little girls. And then, when I was thirteen, he took it further, and started to beat us with this cane he kept in his bedroom. It had a golden head. I guess that was to make it hurt more when he hit us with it. Finally, my eighteenth birthday came, and I just left, and never looked back. I was a really selfish teenager at the time. I never even stopped to think about my little sister." Janine sighed, turning her attention once more to the floor. "I would give anything to go back and change that day. Maybe if I had stayed, Catherine would still be alive."

"Janine, listen to me," Olivia replied, reaching across the table and taking the young woman's hands in hers. As Janine looked up into her eyes, Olivia smiled softly. "You can't blame yourself for what your father did to you and your sister, and you can't beat yourself up for the fact that he killed her. You're here now, and that's what matters. At this point, it is the best thing you can do for Catherine. She deserves justice."

"His cane is in his office nowadays. Catherine called me two years ago and begged me to save her, but I just ignored the voicemail. But I saved it. She said he had upgraded the cane to a metal one, and that he had taken to beating her in the morning AND at night, and raping her in between. She ended the message with a plea for me to come rescue her." Janine reached into her purse and retrieved an old cell phone. She passed it to Olivia. "Please, just listen to the voicemail. It is almost ten minutes long, but it tells you every sick thing he did to her."

Olivia looked down at the phone in her hands, then back up at Janine. "Janine, as helpful as this could be in proving he abused her, it does not prove he murdered her."

"It might," Janine replied. "At the end of the message she said he would tie her to the bed while he raped her and then cut into her breasts and thighs, enough to hurt, but not enough to make her bleed to death. What if he went too far this time? I know he did, Detective Benson. My father is a very cruel, sadistic man. Please help my sister."

Those words hit Olivia like a ton of bricks. Throughout the entire recounting of the abuse Janine and her sister had suffered through for over twelve years, the knot in Olivia's stomach had grown and grown. Now it was actually painful. "We'll do everything we can, Janine," she responded. "But we need you to testify against your father."

Janine's brown eyes snapped to attention. "Anything to put that bastard away for the rest of his miserable life," the girl replied.