A/N: Hey, guys, you haven't forgotten about this story, have you? Well, here goes another chapter anyways.
I'd like to ask you something I've debated with a few Olivia/Casey shippers: Why do you think Alex/Olivia and even Alex/Casey get more appreciation and even more fan content, like fics? I'm really curious about your opinion.
I hope you enjoy this chapter too. Please, let me know what you think of the story. Feedback welcomed, as always.
Chapter 8
Casey allowed her body to slowly slide down and sink into her comfortable office chair, slipping her feet off the heels and massaging one against the other carefully while slightly stretching the collar of her turtleneck sweater, as if to allow the blood to circulate more freely through her veins. She felt not only exhausted, but also overwhelmed by feelings she had never experienced before. It was as if everything had struck her so instantaneously that she didn't have time to process or rationalize - which was unlike of her or of her profession.
Her long fingers anxiously fidgeted with the files spread on top of the work desk before choosing one in particular and opening it decisively. Bright green eyes flickered up and down through the lines of text, turning a shade lighter at each sentence read. Maybe it wasn't thinking this case needed, she conjectured, maybe what it needed was a heavy doses of emotion.
With agile movements she tucked the opened file inside the briefcase and dressed back her heels, rapidly but elegantly rising from the chair and grabbing her coat. She would do whatever it took to bring the rapist to justice and to right her wrongs. She had to. And above all, she wanted to, she was now committed to it.
"Did you ever take your girls to the Bronx Zoo, Mrs. Newlands?", Casey asked, trying to conceal her disgust as she observed the Newlands' family photo and wondered how the woman standing behind her could have been so blind.
"A few times. Lynette is obsessed with giraffes", she replied, with a shy smile.
"A lot of kids are", she said plainly, decided that this was the moment to change her approach, "Your husband must have really enjoyed himself".
"That's not funny", the sympathy quickly faded off her face, "He told me all about these ridiculous new allegations", she commented as she crossed the room, stopping at the liquor cabinet.
"They're not allegations, they're fact", Casey stated.
"We've been married I think I would've picked up on something like that by now", Mrs. Newlands said with a sigh as she poured herself a drink.
"If you haven't, you're in serious denial, which is frightening, given your daughters' ages", she affirmed incisively, approaching the woman with quick small steps.
"That is sick. He has never been inappropriate with them", she growled.
"What about with their friends?"
"I think you should go now", the woman said with a deep, enraged sigh before banging her glass against the cabinet and grabbing Casey by the arm.
"Listen to me. There is no question that your husband is a pedophile", Casey insisted.
Mrs. Newlands sighed in disbelief. "He's done the line up. What more do we have to do to convince you?".
"DNA evidence is irrefutable, Doctor. We have his in one of the victims".
"He never told me that", the doctor whispered, eyes widened with shock.
"Who are you?", the newly arrived Newlands asked Casey.
"Casey Novak, Assistant District Attorney", she answered calmly.
"What the hell are you doing here?", he barked at her.
"Please. If you've been covering up for him, tell me now", she appealed to the wife, as if giving her an ultimatum.
"Get out", he continued.
"Think of your little girls", she whispered, leaning in closer to Mrs. Newlands.
"I'm calling my attorney".
Outside the Newlands' residence Casey heard distressed and confrontational shouts, and as she paced towards her car she shook her head vehemently, uncertain of what to think of the whole situation, only hoping that her incisive action brought some useful results to the case.
After taking what was supposed to be a long and relaxing shower - but that turned out to be just another moment for her mind to space out from the gruesome details of the previous rape cases, to Alicia's terrified eyes, to Olivia's compassionate ones staring vividly at her - she slipped into a comfortable cotton pajama and prepared herself some instant coffee (which was not one of her most remarkable forms of caffeine intake, but definitely better than that strange liquid they insisted in calling coffee at the SVU squad) before finally laying down on her large couch and closing her eyes. With her eyelids lightly shut, she forced all the preoccupations away from her mind, trying to brush them out in the attempts of getting a clean canvas to sleep on, if only for a little while, at least until the coffee turned cold.
Within a few minutes of struggle she realized all attempts of sleeping that night would be in vain as the intrusive thoughts kept clogging whatever notion of peace and quiet she tried to install into her mindset. As usual, she had already anticipated the result to her dilemma: the coffee that rested alongside the opened case files on top of the table before her were the proof of her deep self awareness. Carelessly finger combing her hair back, she exhaled sharply and once again reviewed the inventory on each case, particularly focusing her thoughts on Molly Stratton, the girl who didn't get justice years ago and that now, even though they had DNA evidence, wouldn't get justice because of the statue of limitation. She blankly stared at the smiling curly haired girl on the picture, cursing the whole law under her breath before drinking a sip of her now cold coffee and banging her fist on the wooden table. "Damn it".
Her watchful green eyes scanned through the already familiar sheets of paper countless times before flickering up to the digital clock that marked 2:47 a.m.. Although struck by a sudden feeling of having time being stolen from hands, it all became very real when she stepped inside the kitchen and noticed the coffee jar completely empty of all its content (the equivalent of 3 full mugs of coffee, she remarked to herself, if sleep hadn't become her before it would doubtlessly not become her now). Despite the long time butting heads with hollowed out facts that could only be filled by the evidence she could no longer reach because of the limitation, she managed to highlight a few important points and gather all the notes needed for a trial, all carefully organized in topics, by order of relevance. The first annotation on the case was short and direct, narrowed down to one sentence that had been circled over and over.
Argue MO, it read.
"She has nothing linking my client to this crime", Langan affirmed as Casey Novak, judge Preston and himself strolled down the corridors inside the courthouse.
"I have a particularly vile and unique MO", Casey argumented.
"She has no DNA, no witnesses. The victim picked a different man from the line up", he completed, intentionally diverging his eyes from the fuming gaze Casey gave him.
"This was a scared little girl who blocked out her assailant. Remember, she'd been brutalized", she looked towards the judge.
"Yeah, according to her, by suspect number two, not my client", he said hastily.
"That's such bull", she censured him.
"Maybe", judge Preston said, "You haven't established a prima facie case, counselor. If you've got something, time to show your cards", she completed, motioning Casey to proceed.
"I have a prior victim, same approximate age, same packet of honey", she announced confidently, eyes glued to the judge, "And I do have his DNA in this one", now her piercing eyes were focused on Langan.
"Which is inadmissible. The clock ran out of that case three months ago", he said, dismissively.
"Molineaux. Her testimony would be introduced solely to establish pattern", her stare remained unabated.
"Your Honor, if you let that in, it's all over. The jury will convict on the prior bad act alone", Langan remarked.
"I'll have to agree. The physical evidence is too dispositive".
"Your Honor -", Casey started augmenting but the judge was quick to interfere.
"Let's split the difference. DNA is out, but I'll allow you to argue MO", she decided.
Walking around her office in circles, Casey finally stopped to gather her thoughts and question herself why was it so hard for her to decide whether to announce to the detectives that there would be a trial by phone or to use her free lunch hour and pass over by the squad to tell the news in person. Dismissing any shadow of doubts or implications that her brain had already begun to put in motion, she decided to end the question by simply picking up the phone and calling the sixteenth precinct, a shiver going through her spine when that smooth and familiar voice rose from the other end of the speaker.
"Benson, SVU", she spoke lightly.
"Detective Benson, this is A.D.A. Novak, and I'm just calling to inform all of you that the judge allowed Molly Stratton's testimony", she paused to catch her breath, "Solely to stablish MO, but still, it means Newlands will go to trial", Casey paused once again, this time it was a longer pause but surprisingly Olivia didn't interrupt, "I won't let him walk", she finally finished.
"Oh, this is great news! Wait up".
Casey heard a muffled sound, as if the detective was trying to cover her end of the receiver, but she could still manage to hear what was being said, almost as if the sound came from the bottom of a well.
"It's Novak. The judge accepted Molly's testimony, to argue MO. Newlands is gonna go to trial", Olivia said.
"I knew we'd get the bastard", Elliot replied cheerfully.
"Let's just hope it's enough to put him away", Captain Cragen pondered.
The other voices went back to the background and Olivia's rose closer.
"This is really great news, Novak", she repeated herself.
"Yes, it is", Casey paused, "Benson?".
"Still here", she replied, in a tone Casey wasn't sure was irritated or just expectant.
"Do you wanna grab some lunch?", her tone was now lower, and if the detective could see her the flushed cheeks would be immediately noticeable.
"Mmm", Olivia went silent for a few seconds, "My lunch break is really tight".
"I understand, it's okay. Maybe some other day", she brushed it off, feeling absolutely mortified and mentally cursing herself for vocalizing that question.
"How about we go for a drink if this case ends up well?", the detective proposed.
"Sounds great to me, Benson", Casey accepted, with a smile.
Trial Part 22
Casey Novak had impatiently watched Trevor Langan talk on the cellphone for over 15 minutes before she decided to state what was obviously clear to everyone: Newlands wasn't showing up any time soon at the Court. Langan might as well have helped his client flee and now had to set up in motion the whole "worried attorney searching his client" routine in order to fool the judge, but Casey wasn't gonna let the act hold up for one more moment.
"Your Honor, the People are ready", she blurted out, rising from her seat.
"Where is your client, ?", judge Preston asked irritatedly.
"I have just put in a call to his wife, and my assistant is checking local hospitals", Langan rose, looking completely embarrassed.
"Please", Casey ironically begged, "He hasn't been in an accident. He's obviously fled", she remarked, staring at the judge with a cynical face.
"If you have any knowledge of your client's whereabouts, Counselor", Preston warned him.
"I don't", he paused, "But if I could just have a short recess -"
"Bail is forfeited. I'm ordering a bench warrant for his arrest", the judge said angrily before banging the gavel.
Elliot leaned in closer towards Casey and cleared his throat, "Let's hope he didn't flee the country".
"I'll get started on freezing his accounts", Casey asserted before leaving the courtroom as Olivia and Elliot approached Langan and inquired him about the mysterious phone calls.