A/N… As is my usual routine, brief appearance from LOCI (I do the same for LOCI stories and SVU appearances). Unlike in Storm Surge, this part is probably the extent of LOCI for this story. Maybe one or two references in later chapters, as it pertains.

Quick note on restraints (handcuffs, leg irons, etc…). Some of this may be obvious, but just in case. Restraints can differ based on setting or offense (obviously). For this scene, assume that Clay, and others being detained in a holding cell, are only handcuffed in the front. In other words, too much restraint is overkill and the holding cell already counts as a form of restraint.

Caution about content. This will start to make sense in a few chapters.

As always, I love reviews!

x

The court officer escorts Olivia to the holding cell where Clayton Oldbridge is being detained.

They pass a security check point, then head down a long, narrow corridor that leads to lock-up.

Nothing but gray walls and white-tiled floors along the way, which is a dreary contrast to the expansive marble and ornate décor throughout the rest of the courthouse building.

They turn the corner and enter the room where the detainees remain when they're not in court.

There's one other male prisoner in there with Clay. He's an older man who is standing near the front of the holding cell facing out, maintaining a blank stare.

Clay is sitting on the bench in the far back with his head lowered.

Before his arrest, Clay was contracted through Hudson University's computing and information technology department. He was hired to update the university's networking system.

Clay is 24 years old, with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. He's 6'2" and slender with a solid build. He has a much older, hardened appearance for his age—almost as if he'd been sent to military schools all his life but the discipline never stuck.

At the moment, he looks nothing like the man she arrested. When he lifts his head, his once striking royal blue eyes are washed-out and gray.

He looks weak, pale, almost sickly…

Ironically, this is about how she feels.

"Are you sure you don't want your attorney present?" Olivia offers, as she approaches the bench and sits down beside him.

He shakes his head vacantly.

After no further response from Clay, she prompts him gently. "The court officer said you wanted to see me. What's this about?"

Without lifting his head, he answers, "I know what you think I did… But I did not rape or stab…anyone!"

Olivia takes a deep breath, wondering if this is going to be a repeat of their meeting at Sheldon Arc. "Do you have any information about who might have?"

He glances over where she sits, but still avoids eye contact. "I did talk to someone else about the girls. My lawyer thinks it might be worth mentioning…"

"If it has any bearing on the case, I need to know. And I need the truth."

He doesn't respond.

"If you didn't rape or kill anyone, Clay, then you don't belong here!" she asserts.

The questions were still piling up. The fact that they are this far into the trial and she's suddenly having doubts is making her uncomfortable.

The defense's position is yes, Clay has shown aggression toward those girls prior to their deaths.

But he did not, and would not, commit rape or murder.

In Geoff's opening remarks, he mentions that Clay witnessed his father hitting his mother and his younger brother, while he was growing up.

Clay grew up believing that aggression was perfectly acceptable.

And he wasn't punished.

Not for the times he lashed out at his brother.

Not even when his high school suspended him for bullying and threatening another classmate.

Geoff, Clay and Clay's therapist seem to think that the therapy is working on controlling his aggression.

After digesting her words for a minute, he glances toward her humbly. "D-do you think I'm a killer?"

"I don't know…" she says, sighing. "I think there's more to you than people realize. I think you're ashamed of what you've done in the past, but people can change."

"Thanks," he mutters quietly.

"Why don't you tell me why you asked me here?"

Clay takes a deep breath and begins his story. "A few months back, I went to McGill's for a drink. Some guy comes in. We're both just sitting at the bar watching the Giants game. Not really saying much to each other except, 'pass the popcorn.' After a while, we start talking. He tells me his girlfriend just dumped him. Seemed pretty depressed about it at the time, so I tried to cheer him up. I wound up telling him about the girls and about the trouble I was in for assaulting them. Hell, I don't know what I was thinking at the time… But he could have read about it in the paper."

Olivia nods.

"Later on, while I'm still at the bar, I start feeling pretty sick. Only had a couple beers so I thought I was coming down with the flu or something. I decide to go home and sleep it off. I leave the bar and head for the subway. Nausea is still hitting me pretty hard and I'm just trying to get home. I'm in the subway for maybe a couple minutes, and I see that guy again. He was still at the bar when I left, so he must have followed me. Around that time, I'm starting to sweat. Getting really, really sick. Feeling dizzy. Thought I was going to pass out right there on the subway platform. He says something like, 'Don't worry, man, I'll get some help…' After that, I must have blacked out."

After a prolonged pause with nothing further from Clay, she prompts him. "What else can you remember?"

"I-I woke up in….someone's apartment. Th-that same man is there. He's standing over me. And I'm lying on th-the floor… My head is spinning. M-my clothes are torn up—like someone had tried to cut them off me….and I couldn't move. I couldn't lift my head. I felt like…dead weight… Like I was drugged." Clay pauses, shaking his head, eyes showing panic. "I-if I could, I—I would have gotten the hell out of there…" he swallows against the knot in his throat. "That guy's a fuckin' sick freak!" He leans over and covers his face with his hands.

She scoots closer to him. "Clay… What happened?"

When he fails to look up, she puts a hand on his shoulder supportively.

Clay lifts his head, glaring at the other detainee. He abruptly bolts up from the bench and takes off after him. "The hell, you looking at, old guy! You laughing? You better not fucking laugh!"

"I'm not even looking at you, you punk!" the man fires back irritably.

Clay pins the older man against the bars, using his arms and his body weight.

"Clay, stop!" Olivia is already up off the bench, trying to separate the two men.

"Hey! What th' hell… GUARD! GUARD!" the older man yells out.

Clay fists the man's collar in his hands and throws him back against the bars once more.

He releases him slightly and begins throwing punches. His swings are awkward and the handcuffs restrict him, but it doesn't seem to be slowing him down at all.

The detainee fights back the best he can, catching Clay in the lip at least once. But Clay has more upper body strength. He nails the man in the stomach, before planting one more at his jaw.

"CLAYTON! CLAYTON!" one of the security guards yells as he approaches the containment area, opens the door and comes in to assist.

Olivia and the security guard manage to separate the two, Olivia forcefully restraining Clay from behind, although he continues to fight them. "Clay…stop! That's enough! Clay!"

Another guard approaches and takes the older man out of the holding cell, while the first responding guard assists Olivia.

"Clayton, that's enough!" the guard scolds.

Olivia and the guard lower Clay toward the floor in a sitting position. They remove his handcuffs, reposition his arms in the back, and re-cuff him. Olivia gets behind him to restrain his arms and upper body, preventing him from getting back up.

He huffs and puffs, trying to catch his breath. A slight trickle of blood appears below his lip where the other detainee hit him.

Then, he lowers his head and appears to withdraw.

Her eyes drift from Clay to the guard briefly. "Could you leave us alone for a bit?"

He nods. "I'll be right out here."

Olivia leans in closer, compassion in her tone, "Clay, what happened to you that night?"

His eyes glisten with tears, his body begins to shake restlessly and his lower lip quivers as he bites back the pending emotions. "Nothing! J-just leave me alone!"

She waits, giving him a minute to calm down. When she speaks to him again, she maintains a firm, nurturing tone. "I'm not here to judge you…and I'm not going anywhere. Tell me what happened when you discovered you were at the man's apartment."

His muscles abruptly clench. She prepares herself in case he decides to get up, or use whatever he can to fight her again.

"If this man hurt you in any way, I want him punished. I want him arrested so he can't hurt you or anyone else, ever again…." She offers one of her hands to his cuffed hand. "I'm on your side, Clay."

He hesitates at first, then opens his hand and accepts hers. Her warmth and nurturing causes something to inside him to break. He leans into her for support, starting to cry.

"Clay, what happened?"

His face flushes with anger. "That fucking…freak! I'm NOT a f-fag!"

He's not giving specifics and he's still visibly shaken. She lets him take his time.

His voice quivers as he replies, "I c-couldn't move…couldn't move… He cut me…scratched me… Called me a baby and said I didn't n-need those….whores. Those pussies..."

"Where did he cut and scratch you?"

"My legs…my ass….my back… That freak! I'll fucking kill him!"

"What else happened?"

"He f-forced himself…" Clay cries and tenses his body.

She sighs, realizing what he doesn't want to say. "He forced himself on you…sexually."

"Yes! I'm gonna kill him!"

"What else can you remember?"

"He cut me whenever I'd flinch… I kept passing out. I woke up once and he was gone. Just got the hell out and went home. Called my supervisor and said I had the flu and couldn't get any work done. I didn't go anywhere for days."

"How long did he keep you?"

He shrugs. "I don't know… About two days, I'd guess."

She already knows the answer, but she asks anyway. "Did you report this to anyone?"

He sniffles and shakes his head.

"How much does this man know about Holly, Jayne and Alicia?"

"I told him things at the bar that you'd tell a close friend. I didn't think…any of this…would happen." His voice still teary and broken.

"Did he contact you after this? Did he make any threats?"

He nods, "Told me to st-stay away from the girls…or else."

"Did you tell someone you were receiving threats?"

He shakes his head angrily. "I was already up to my neck in trouble with the cops and the girls wanted nothing to do with me. Who the fuck would believe me?" He continues to shake.

"Shhh… It's okay, it's okay… I believe you."

"He did this! He hurt them to get back at me!" Clay admits tearfully. He sinks against her and sobs heavily.

Her eyes—now bearing a light sheen of tears—gaze around at the holding cell jadedly.

x

Moments later, she has a description of the individual.

The name the man used at the bar was 'Brock.'

Brock is about six feet tall, large build, stocky, with medium brown hair and brown eyes. Age is approximated at early to mid 40s. He has anywhere from seven to ten tattoos on his body; one resembling a cobra or some kind of snake on his right arm. There's another on his neck that resembles the capital letter L with a word or two written below it. He couldn't recall the others. There's a birthmark or mole shaped like a crescent under Brock's left eye.

Clay says he can't remember where this apartment was—only that it was on the lower east side. He reports blacking out and waking up a few times during the attack. When he awoke and discovered that Brock wasn't there, he managed to remove duct tape from his arms and legs, and escape. The room had green carpet, one light fixture and white speckled wallpaper that is peeling. Said the place smelled like gasoline at times and was very musty. Since the incident, the perpetrator has contacted Clay a few times a week, until Clay was arrested and charged with 4 counts of murder. He reports having some deep scratches near his groin area, some on his back and thighs, which healed with first aid treatment and time. He opted against seeking medical help or going to the police, worried that he would be laughed at or refused treatment on account of his criminal record.

According to Clay, he was warned against going to see the girls.

Supposing this guy 'Brock' has a grievance against Clay and a history of sexually deviant behavior, he could have raped and murdered those women. Could be a bisexual predator who is more inclined to rape for power or punishment. So there's not a specific preference toward men or women. She couldn't think of any outstanding cases, but she'd have to search the NYPD database.

There's still Clay's DNA at the crime scene and his hunting knife as the murder weapon. But if this guy has enough information on Clay, he could have planted it. The two men are close in height and size. At night, and at a distance, someone could have mistaken Brock for Clay.

She has no physical proof that any of this happened other than Clay's story. Truthfully, there were signs of him reliving the abuse. There was the anger, the embarrassment, and hence his reluctance to admit what happened. He would tense his body as he recounted the details of that night. When he felt he could trust her, he sought comfort.

In her experience, Clay's behavior was no act.

x

Moments later, Olivia exits the holding cell area.

She attempts a call to Geoff, but he doesn't answer. Obviously, this is the story he wants her to know about.

This guy 'Brock' knows everything about the charges, the restraining order, the girls, and Clay's past.

While she's still trying to sort everything out, her cell phone rings.

She glances down at the display. It's not a call she's expecting, but she smiles and takes it.

"Hi, Alex…long time no see," she warmly greets her colleague and friend, Alexandra Eames. With their hectic schedules, they don't always find the time to catch up.

"Hey, Liv. Yeah, I was just thinking the same. Wondered if you wanted to grab lunch today?"

"Sounds great, but unfortunately, I'm not in New York."

"Where are—?" Alex begins, then pauses as she remembers. "Oh wait…you're in Pennsylvania. I forgot that case was going to trial. Saw that in the news and it must have slipped my mind."

"That's okay. If I didn't have a phone with about a dozen reminders, I wouldn't know where the hell I was supposed to be either."

Alex chuckles. "Yeah, I know that problem. So how's the trial going?"

"Well…" she sighs, her eyes darting around as an idea occurs to her. "It's kind of taking an interesting turn…ummm… Hey, are you at Major Case right now, by any chance?"

"Yep, slow morning. Bobby and I wrapped up a case yesterday and we're just about to start catching up on our fives."

"Is the database up?"

"No, but it can be." Alex drags the laptop across her desk so it's closer to her. "What do you need?"

"I need you to do a search and unfortunately, I haven't got much. I've got a first name that is probably an alias, a physical description, a couple tattoos and a mole or a birthmark. Maybe you can help me narrow it down?"

"Like I said, slow morning. Fire away."

Olivia finds a quiet corner and quickly brings her up to speed on Clay, Geoff and the information she's just received.

"Wow… Yeah, you've got a case on your hands," Alex remarks as Olivia finishes. "So why hasn't Clay filed a report on his attacker?"

"He would rather forget about it. Decided not to go to the police because he thought no one would listen to him," she answers disheartened.

"Got a physical description?"

Olivia relays the information Clay gave her.

"I'll see what I can dig up."

"Thanks, I really do appreciate it."

"No problem."

They're both quiet for a couple minutes, as Alex looks into the database. Olivia hears clicking in the background.

"So, uh….how's Stabler? You two still going hot and heavy?" Alex teases, being generally aware of the tension between them and attempting to keep things light.

Alex and Olivia have sometimes let their conversations about their respective partners run amok over drinks. Just girl talk. They keep it light, and it gives them the chance to confide in someone.

"Ha! Yeah, right," Olivia responds chuckling. "We're okay one minute, ready to kill each other the next."

"Must be true love…" she quips under her breath.

"And how's your lover boy?" Olivia teases back.

Alex smirks. "Well… We did just split a breakfast sandwich and we're sharing a file from the ME's office…"

"How romantic," Olivia quips.

Alex grins and mumbles. "Not exactly what I had in mind."

"I'll bet," Olivia chuckles. "You'll have to fill me in later."

"Right. So tell me about this defense attorney… Umm…Geoff?"

"Oh, he's a sweetheart…"

"A sweetheart…and a defense attorney…? How is that even possible?" Alex quips.

She smiles. "I meant….he's not like 'most.' He has a background in criminal psychology and loves to talk about human behavior—sort of reminds me of your other half. I had dinner with him the night we went to meet with Clay at Sheldon Arc. He's a great guy."

"Is he attractive?"

"Yeah, I'd say so."

"And on a scale of one to ten…how jealous is Elliot right now?" Alex teases.

She smirks at the question. "Not at all."

"Yeah…right!"

"No, Geoff's just a friend. Elliot's just…" she sighs, "…Elliot."

"In other words… Pittsburgh's too far and Elliot's too far under your skin?"

Olivia grins. "I guess that about covers it."

"Glad I could clear that up."

They're quiet again, as Alex resumes the research. A moment later, she gasps.

"What?"

"Hold on a second… I think I might have something…" She starts typing again.

Olivia waits, but then begins to fidget nervously. Her stomach resuming its latest state of discomfort.

She spends a few more minutes verifying some information, then she's back on the line. "Olivia… Looks like you've got a hit on the L-shaped/star tattoo and the birthmark. The guy's name is James Ruesheirs," she says, and then spells out the last name for Olivia who scribbles it on a pad of paper. "Bobby and I both remember hearing something about this guy. Might have gone through Major Case but it never crossed our desks. Suspect's date of birth, 7/13/1967. No known address for the past 9 years. Prior to that, he's been charged with misdemeanor assault and served 6 months in Rikers. That's why his prints are in the system. They have his DNA at a crime scene for 3 homicides in Chelsea back in 2009. There are a couple more warrants, one in the Bronx and another in Long Island. Each male victim identified him by the tattoo and a crescent-shaped mole, which he sometimes covers up. Unfortunately, the victims have both been reported missing and nothing's turned up. Ruesheirs is a possible suspect in over 20 homicides-many in which a rape was also committed. He kills, then finds a hideout and probably changes his appearance. He seems to target straight men. Attacks on women seem to be purely for revenge or humiliation…"

"If this is the guy, why wouldn't he have killed Clay when he had the chance?"

"Good question."

"The police were already looking at Clay because of his recent arrest…" Olivia notes aloud.

"Right."

"So why target him at all if James wants to stay under the radar?" she poses confused.

"Maybe he thought Clay wouldn't go to the cops?" Alex supposes.

"And he was right," Olivia solemnly responds. She wonders how much of this mess Clay could have avoided if he had come to the police and reported the assault.

Alex reads a little further, then adds, "He uses Oxycodone and various mind-altering drugs… So, he could have drugged Clay's drink when he was at the bar, and when he got sick James brought him back to his apartment. When Clay escapes and attempts to cut off contact, James rapes and murders the girls, thinking that setting Clay up for the crime would be one way of getting back at him for leav—" Alex suddenly gasps and jumps.

"What?"

"Oh, sorry… Bobby just startled me. He's reading over my shoulder."

"He's somewhere close to this trial…" Bobby speculates aloud, tapping the top of her laptop screen for emphasis. "Probably inside that courthouse."

"Did you hear that, Liv?" Alex asks, concerning Bobby's suspicions.

"Yeah," she replies. "But why not move on to someone else? Why here?"

"He's keeping an eye on Clay," Alex suggests with a sigh.

"Right," Bobby agrees, leaning further over Alex's shoulder as he speaks. "If Clay's released or identifies James, he's as good as dead. James refuses to be caught. If I remember correctly…" Bobby pauses, "Eames, scroll up… No, one more… Okay...here it is. He's also wanted in connection with the two cop killings in 2005. They were shot at close range while trying to find the two exchange students whose bodies were dumped in a garage in South Orange. They got too close. This guy set a trap. You and Stabler had better watch your backs and keep a guard on Clay until you have James in custody," he concludes.

"Okay," she agrees. Fortunately, he's in lock-up. Probably the safest place for him until they figure out what they're going to do.

Alex speaks up. "Liv, I'll send you this information along with some of his earlier mug shots and more recent sketches. He changes his appearance…but this is what we've got."

"Great, thanks! Oh…and could you do me a favor…?"

"Get a couple of mug shots over to McGill's to see if the bartender recognizes Clay or James, and remembers anything from that night…?" Alex replies, anticipating her question. "Yep, will do. I'll let you know what I find out. Call me if you need anything. And be careful."

"I will. Thanks so much." She ends the call, then makes another attempt to call Geoff. Again, it goes to voicemail.

Two messages arrive on her phone from Alex. The first is the text document containing James' background. The photos are in the second message. It takes a little time to load, but she's got them. She scans the attachments for a few minutes, then closes the message.

She looks everywhere for Geoff, eventually heading outside the courthouse to see if he's anywhere close by.

Her eyes hop around from person to person nervously, remembering Detective Goren's hunch…

'He's somewhere close to this trial. Probably inside that courthouse.'

x x x

TBC…

A/N Yes, by the way, Eames ships E/O too ;)