Chapter Three
Elliot's voice became too matter-of-fact for Olivia's liking. "So I guess Barba didn't feel like there was enough evidence to charge anyone?"
"We don't have any witnesses now. Our only decent one got fed a drug overdose, probably from the vice cops she was about to expose."
"Well, you're lucky." He turned his attention to a folder on the table in front of him, resting his hand on it. "The FBI's had a UC in there for a while now, looking for evidence of sex trafficking."
She wished that made her feel better, but right now all she could focus on was the knot in her gut from being punched with the reality that her former partner had re-entered her life, but only in the most official capacity. "That's—that's great. So why do you need me? You could coordinate with my squad."
He cleared his throat. "Because I don't trust anyone but you. And Fin, and he's in court all day on another case."
She stood and scooted her chair under the table. "Well then, I guess you don't need me anymore, because I can vouch for all of them. Everyone but Dodds. You can trust any one of them to fill you in."
His eyes begged her to stay, but he said, "Okay, then." She turned and placed an ambivalent hand on the door handle, pausing when he said, "Liv." She didn't turn to face him, but sighed when he said, "I'm going to do my best to get you your job back. Even though—Tucker? What are you, writing your own version of Sleeping with the Enemy?"
And with that, she charged through the door and slammed it behind her before advancing to the elevator. The doors slid open to reveal Tucker's hanging head, his hard eyes lifting to meet hers, and then widening. "Liv, what are you doing here?"
"Probably the same thing as you. Speaking to the FBI?"
His gaze darted around the precinct as he got off the elevator. "Yeah."
She wedged a hand against the elevator door to hold it open until she could drop her bombshell. "I'm guessing they didn't tell you either."
"Tell me what?"
"The agent who's here . . . is Stabler."
"Ah, Christ."
She tucked her lips into her teeth, holding back a smirk, and then stepped on the elevator. "Good luck."
Elliot peered up through lowered eyes at Tucker's steely face after the white-haired bull-dog entered the interrogation room. Then Elliot leaned back for emphasis, saying, "My, how tables do turn."
"What do you mean, Stabler?" Tucker said, pulling out the same seat that Olivia had just graced with her awe-inspiring presence. "You're not investigating me."
"You sure about that?" It warmed Elliot's heart to watch Tucker squirm. "After all, you're already under investigation by your own department."
Uncertainty seemed to pierce Tucker's hardened exterior. But then he said, "Nah. You wouldn't come all the way down here for some unsubstantiated Jerry Springer rumor about me, when you've got obviously corrupt vice cops to go under. Unless—" Elliot could almost see a smirk hiding under those straight-line lips. "Unless there's an alternative reason for being here. Like your ex-girlfr—oops, I meant, partner—falling into bed with the guy you despise the most."
Elliot resisted the urge to shoot to his feet and jam the man against the wall. He wasn't sure if his internal reaction was because of his feelings for Olivia, or if it was just the crass way Tucker spoke about her. But he swallowed his pride and steadied his voice. "Well I guess it's true what they say, that there's no accounting for taste. But regardless, that's not why I'm here."
"You're here to get those dirty cops."
"And others."
"Well, as far as that goes, you have my complete cooperation. But Stabler," he said, his gaze growing daggers.
"Huh?" Elliot didn't break his menacing stare, not even to blink.
"You get in the way of Liv and me, and you'll pay."
Elliot had never, in all his misfortunate dealings with Tucker, heard such venom in the man's voice. "I don't plan on it. But she makes her own decisions."
There was a time span of several seconds where Elliot wondered whether Tucker was going to try and pummel Elliot into the ground or back down. Fortunately, the man chose the latter, saying, "Let's get started. I'll tell you everything I know."
After Tucker finished his debriefing and left, Elliot stayed glued to his chair, rubbing his stubbly chin. How could he be so disappointed with Olivia's reaction, when he knew he had screwed up? No contact for five years. They had been so much more than partners, more like unfulfilled soul-mates, and he had abandoned her without even a goodbye. Why had he thought she might be glad to see him?
He knew she had her new life, and new love interests, and a family, but Tucker? He couldn't understand how she had gone to the dark side. Maybe his leaving had created a void so empty that she needed someone extreme to fill it. Or maybe the guy had stopped being a prick. Either way, knowing they were together opened a wound in him that he couldn't foresee ever healing.
Olivia answered her door and couldn't believe how hard her stomach fell when she realized it was Tucker and not Elliot. How could she possibly long for a man she hadn't seen for five years, just because he decided to pop into her life for five seconds? She was so angry with him right now, she just wanted him to skip this investigation and drive straight on through to hell.
Holding the door open for Tucker, she said, "I thought we agreed, no meeting at my place for now."
"I know. I just had to touch base after that awkwardness. What did you tell him?"
"Stabler?" she said innocently, as if he could possibly be talking about anyone else. "I told him to have my squad catch him up. What about you?"
He brought his hands up to wrap them around the back of her head. "I told him everything I know."
She wrapped her arms around him and said softly, "Maybe he can help."
He intertwined his fingers in her hair. "Can't hurt, I guess."
Their bodies swayed gently, pressed against one another. She said cautiously, "He said they have another person on the inside of the operation—they might be able to pursue different leads than us."
Tucker shook his head. "Hey, let's not talk about this anymore, okay?"
He stroked her hair, and then leaned in for a kiss. But she wasn't in the mood, and she turned her head before his lips could make contact. He pulled back, his eyes confused. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head, unable to meet his gaze. His hands strengthened their grip on the back of her shoulders. "Nothing. I'm just . . . not in the mood for this tonight."
He nodded curtly, his jaw clenching. "Oh, really? Why not?"
"It's just . . . everything that's going on right now, it's got me stressed out." She pulled away from his grip and went to her secret stash of wine, pulling out two glasses.
He didn't come toward her to retrieve a glass. Instead, he stayed planted on the spot where she left him, studying her. She didn't like the way he stared at her. "Oh?" he said, thinly veiled sarcasm in his voice. "Because you didn't seem to have a problem with intimacy yesterday." She lowered her head, carefully pouring the wine into the glass, and he continued, "Is there something . . . different today?"
Her head snapped up and she jammed the bottle down harder on the table than she meant to. "What do you mean?"
He shrugged, but his tight lips portrayed anything but indifference. "Oh, I don't know. Elliot shows back up in town, and all of a sudden—"
"That's bullshit, Ed," she said, pouring a large swig of stinging red liquid down her throat. "This has nothing to do with—"
"Then what does it have to do with?" His darkened face stepped out of a shadow, and now she could see every vein in his forehead.
She sighed. "I already told you."
She took another gulp of wine, watching him intently while she downed it. He took another couple of steps toward her, and now she could see every taut muscle in his neck. He opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it again, as if he had changed his mind. Then he spoke, his tone measured. "Okay, then. I guess I'll leave you to your 'stress reliever.'"
With those words, he spun to face the door and strode out, closing the door hard without quite slamming it.