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Too Close

Chapter Twelve

Part 1.

Elliot made phone calls while a doctor put a cast on Olivia's ankle, broken apparently from tensing her muscles during ECT. "Elliot, without Olivia's memory of the rape, we have no case," said Cragan over the phone. "I ran it by Barba, and he says he won't charge anyone until you have more—preferably a complaining witness."

"Gah, Captain, can't I just take Olivia out of here for her own protection?"

"I'll talk to Huang and see if we can at least get her moved."

"But we can still bring the guard down to the station for questioning, get him out of there," said Elliot. "And we should be able to find our victim—Olivia left a good description on the note."

"Alright, I'll have Fin and Amanda come down to get the suspect, and you work on finding the victim."

"And Olivia?" said Elliot, hoping the captain would give the okay to send her home.

"She's still a psych patient, Elliot," said Cragan. "You're going to have to accept that she's staying in a facility for at least the next day."

"I know," said Elliot, "but you have no idea how horrible this place is. The entire thing needs to be shut down."

"That may be," said Cragan, "but ever since that woman died there a few years ago, the Chief of D's son-in-law has been running the place, and he's not going to want us drawing attention to it until we can prove something happened. So have patience. They're probably not going to do anything to hurt her, knowing that we're on them."

"The doctor gave her electroshock therapy," said Elliot. "He's trying to shut her up, Captain. That should be enough to remove her right there."

"Like I said, I'll talk to Huang," said Cragan. "But without a doctor's approval, we can't just take her out of there. Can you imagine the outrage if people found out we let a mental patient go just because she's a detective?"

"I don't give a damn what people think—" said Elliot, his volume growing.

"Elliot, just do what I ask," said Cragan. "I don't like it any more than you, but there's procedures that have to be followed."

Elliot sighed and hung up. "Fuck procedures," he said to nobody in particular. As long as an investigation was ongoing, he was allowed to be inside the ward, and he planned on taking advantage of that fact for as long as possible.

Part 2.

The events of the past few days jumbled inside Olivia's mind. She remembered bits and pieces, but when she tried to fit the pieces together like a puzzle, none of them glided easily together. There was the room in the basement, and the restraints. There was a woman who took a note from Olivia. There was a man with a goatee looking down on her, with a Russian accent. And then there was Elliot's enraged face, reddened, veins standing out.

But she couldn't recall the names of any of these other people, or what they had to do with her. She didn't even know why she was in here to begin with. But as she closed her eyes, she regained one lost image from the past—that of herself, sitting in a chair, staring out the window as she swallowed a handful of pills and took a swig from a bottle of vodka.

She swallowed hard at the memory—hat was one she could have left behind. As they finished the cast on her foot, she looked over at Elliot and wondered why he had been so angry in her memories. But she didn't care right now—all she knew was that he was here, and that made her feel safe.

Elliot helped her into the wheelchair and took her to the restroom with a change of clothes he had brought her from home. As he helped her up, she leaned into him for support and said, "Thank you so much El. You have no idea how much it means to have my own clothes." He had his arms wrapped around her to help her balance on her one good foot, and now he pulled her into him and hugged her tightly before helping her into the restroom to change.

She struggled to pull her sweat pants on over her cast, but the rest of the clothes were easier. Elliot took her back to her room, where Shelly was having a conversation with herself. "No, I didn't do that," she said. "But you said you would have to wash the car, and it's washed. No, but I didn't wash it—the evil king did. He's possessed."

Olivia allowed Elliot to pull her up from the wheelchair, and leaned on him to hobble over to the bed. Once she was lying down, he sat next to her and studied her face, worry showing in the wrinkles on his forehead. He held her hand like a rose petal, and said, "So you don't remember anything about seeing a woman being raped by a guard?"

She shifted in the bed, saying, "No, why?"

He pulled out a note and showed it to her, and she saw that it was in her own handwriting. When she read it, she let her hand drop, and said, "I don't even remember writing this, Elliot. This is all so strange. Why can't I remember?"

"ECT causes memory loss," he said. "Listen, Liv, I'm going to try and find this woman. If you remember anything, call for me, okay?"

She nodded and settled into her bed, sagging into the mattress as if she had not slept in a year.

Part 3.

Elliot found several women who met Olivia's description, asking each one if they had a tattoo before moving on. He came to one woman with shifty eyes and said, "Hi, I'm Detective Stabler with Manhattan SVU, can I ask you some questions?"

The woman nodded, and he said, "There's been a report of a rape in this facility, do you know anything about that?"

The woman shook her head. Elliot narrowed his eyes and said, "Do you by any chance have a tattoo?"

Now the woman spoke. "Yeah."

"What's your name?"

"Tabby."

"Okay, Tabby, do you mind if I have a look at your tattoo?"

She pulled up the back of her shirt just enough to show a colorful flower, possibly a lily, and Elliot knew he had the right person. "Pretty tat," said Elliot. "I've got a few myself. Tabby, can I talk to you in private over here?" He waved over to a quiet corner of the room, away from wandering eyes, and she followed him there and sat down next to him in a chair.

"Tabby," he said, folding his hands in between his knees, "I've been told that a guard sexually assaulted you, but we can't do anything about it unless you tell me that it happened. So is there something you want to tell me?"

Tabby glanced around the room and then back at him, her eyes like saucers. She said, "No, nothing like that happened."

Elliot sighed, and for once he felt angry toward a victim. The chances of him getting Olivia out of here depended on this woman's admission that she was assaulted, and he couldn't force her to come clean. "You're sure. Because she said a guard did it."

"Yeah," Tabby said, nodding weakly. "Nothing happened."

Elliot stood and paced a few steps and then turned to her and handed her his card. "Listen," he said, "If you change your mind and want to tell me something, I promise you'll be protected."

She nodded but turned her head away from him, indicating she was done with the conversation. Elliot scratched his ear and went back to Olivia's room, sitting softly on her bed as he tried to figure out how to break it to her. She looked at him expectantly, and he said, "I found our victim, and she won't talk."

"Aw, man," she said, throwing her head back on the pillow. "Elliot, I can't stay here. It's not safe."

"I agree," said Elliot. "But I don't know how to get you out, and without a complaining victim, I'm just trespassing. So let's figure out a system, in case you get into trouble."