Rodney jogged to catch up with Lana as they headed in to the next class. He had called out for her to wait up but she must not have heard him.
"Hey! You ready for some more self defense?" He did a mock karate move, but her smile came a half beat late.
"Oh, yeah, it should be fun. Hey," she put a hand out, stopping him, "I was actually wondering..."
Rodney's grin sharpened, completely prepared to tell her he was free after shift.
"Could we try a little more force today? I think the girls could benefit from seeing a little more realism in the defenses."
Lana watched Rodney's expression fall. "Oh, Do you really think that's necessary?"
Lana just blinked at him, and he shrugged, "I mean, we need something a sixteen year old can do with her purse. We're not teaching MMA."
Lana swallowed her flash of anger. She was irritable to begin with, she didn't want to over-react. "Well, are we going to teach them self defense or pretend self defense, because only one is actually going to make a difference."
Some of her fire slipped into her eyes, and Rodney held up his hands, "Ok sure, whatever you want."
Lana forced a smile. "Thanks."
She turned, stopping short of running into Voight at the door of the gym, and scooted by him. She needed to clear her head and get ready for this class.
The girls were gathered inside and Lana greeted them. Some were practicing the moves from yesterday. Most were just chatting as they waited but they quieted when they saw her.
"Hey, welcome back. My partners are gonna be out in a second, and we'll start going through some things."
She heard Rodney coming up beside her and she made room for him. He meant well and he really was great with the class. Maybe she shouldn't be so annoyed.
"So first, we-"
Her words were cut short by a hand closed over her mouth. She was jerked back, knocked against a hard body. A flash of warm cedar hit her senses and she recognized it.
Voight.
He twisted, fast enough she could have barely reacted even if she had wanted to, but she let him take her down. Her stomach lurched as she fell, fingers clawing at the arm around her throat.
He didn't slow her fall, but his right arm hooked behind her, forearm catching the back of her head before it met the ground.
So rough but still so careful.
His left hand was at her throat, pressing hard against her collarbone, forcing her into the mat.
"You know what she wasn't?" Voight looked at a wide- eyed class as he loomed over her. "Prepared. Yesterday you learned how to spot your attackers. To be prepared. But sometimes, you won't be."
He looked down at her, expression stern and just a little smug. "Today we learn how to defend against that."
Lana threw an arm against his elbow joint, brought a knee up as it buckled and forced him off of her as she rolled free.
She hopped to her feet, giving Voight a hand up that he took without complaint. Rodney still looked a bit stunned.
He wasn't the only one.
The class hadn't been expecting this.
Voight looked around, noted the sudden uncertainty, even fear in their eyes. They had grown confident yesterday just to witness how easily she could be taken down.
But they also saw her get out. Lana had been right. He had heard her conversation with Rodney, what she wanted to teach these girls. They needed reality and to know that they could handle it. Not a placebo routine that wouldn't fully keep them safe.
"Now did anyone see what I did?" Milani asked, and one girl raised her hand.
"You, uh, went for the elbow?"
Milani smiled. "That's right. There's always a weak point. We're gonna help you find it."
Rodney was left to just watch.
Voight would jerk her to him and she would react, fast and violent. Neither seemed to hold back.
But then they would slow it down. Voight would pull her back against him, keep her there so the class could see, how he was holding her, what parts of her body were pinned and what she could use. And she would walk them through it. How she broke free. How she used his own body against him.
They were focused, no one could deny that. Engaged in having these girls understand. But Voight didn't always let her go. A girl would ask a question and Lana would answer halfway through a demonstration, body still flush against his, his arm still drawn around her waist, and she would stay that way. Cheeks high with exertion. A tension in her stance from being ready to move. But there was something so comfortable about it that Rodney couldn't wrap his brain around.
Lana was breathing hard. She chalked it up to how Voight was really pushing her, but she knew it wasn't that. His hands met her body with a forcible command and she had to strain against them. Strain under them. She would pin him beneath her after breaking his hold and for half a second his hands would grip her thighs. Like they belonged there. Like a natural breath of movement and it was driving her mad.
She couldn't do it. She couldn't go back to it, to his touch, not with Olivia Benson's face stuck in her memory.
She had made the right choice. But as class finished and Voight glanced at her, fettered heat in his eye, she wished she could make another one.
Voight showered, water cold and blasting, trying to slow his mind. She responded to him. He couldn't be making that up. Imagining it. He saw it in her eyes. Recognized the same thing he felt everytime his hands met her skin. It had kept happening. He would pin her waist and her tank top would slip, hot skin exposed beneath a thumb that couldn't stay still.
Rodney was interested in her. That much was obvious, but he had a feeling Rodney meant strings and Milani wasn't looking for that. She had liked what she had going with Voight.
What had changed?
As he toweled off, he knew it wasn't that hard to figure out why she had stopped coming around.
Prison. Dirty Cop. Dead son. None of that was something any sane person would want to get near. She had pulled back because she had learned a little too much about him, and he shouldn't be surprised. He should have seen this coming.
And maybe he had.
He just hadn't expected himself to care. Hadn't expected himself to miss it. Miss her.
He shut his phone off when he got home. Didn't want to deal with the temptation of checking it. Using it.
He could manage that at least.
They stepped in to chaos.
The precinct lobby was full the next morning, Platt shooing people away from her desk, waving for him as he entered. Erin was behind him and they both cut through the crowd to Platt.
A cop had been shot.
It thudded into you, that kind of news. It was a danger of the job, everyone knew that, but it hit too close to home. One of their own.
His task force was put on the case.
Antonio slammed the phone down, cursing under his breath. Another useless call. How could no one have seen anything? Two of the nearby stores at the scene of the shooting had been closed due to a gas leak. Foot traffic had been light, people distracted.
Lana set a cup of coffee down on his desk, squeezed his forearm as she passed and he smiled a tired thank you. He had a lot of respect for her. She moved with the kind of confidence that got things done but didn't attract alot of notice. And she had been going nonstop on this case.
They all had.
It had been a targeted killing but they couldn't figure out why.
Everything else was put on hold. He was supposed to see his kids this weekend but he had cancelled. They understood. Sometimes he worried they were too understanding.
They were waiting on a break, a new clue to surface, and he was halfway waiting for Voight to snap. He got pulled tight on cases like these, that hair trigger that much more likely to just go off and Antonio didn't know how to balance looking out for the team and hitting this case with everything he had.
Voight would never intentionally screw any of them over but that didn't mean they wouldn't get caught in the crossfire of his actions.
Antonio wasn't willing to see that happen.
Lana glanced at the clock. 3:17. Platt had gotten someone else to cover the defense class these last couple of days. They needed all hands on this. Probably the stupidest thing to worry about right now, but she was a little disappointed she wouldn't get to say goodbye to the girls on the last day. They had worked hard all week. Should be proud of what they had done.
But she had bigger things to focus on right now.
They couldn't figure it out. Everything about the crime scene suggested some sort of revenge killing. It was methodical but the cause of death had been aggressive, like it was personal.
The officer had no obvious enemies. Any potential leads panned out almost as soon as they found them, time and again they were back to square one and Lana couldn't figure out why.
It was past seven when Voight stopped by her desk.
"You should go home, Milani. You've been here since five."
Milani looked up from her computer screen, "Are you heading out?"
"Yeah," Voight nodded, "I'll give you a ride."
Lana didn't protest. She was exhausted, didn't feel like walking or catching a cab.
The windshield wipers beat out a rhythm against the rain and Lana's eyes tracked the movement back and forth before she shook her head to keep from going insane.
How did they still have nothing?
She looked over at Voight, his mind clearly still turning as he drove. He couldn't shut it off either.
None of them could.
"How's Olivia?"
The question popped out of her mouth and she watched him take a second to hear it.
"What, Benson?" he clarified, shooting her a glance, and Lana shrugged. Feeling bold. Or careless. She wasn't sure which.
"Yeah."
"She's good, far as I know."
"You haven't talked to her?"
Voight scratched his chin, "not since the last case, no. Why?"
Lana shrugged again, "I just thought maybe you would talk to her more."
Voight came to a stop in front of her apartment, and turned to her in confusion.
"Not unless she needs help with a case. She's a good friend. Maybe I should call her more."
He had no idea what this had to do with anything and he watched Lana consider.
"Friend," she repeated. and Voight huffed.
"Yeah. I have those."
She didn't react, was so intentionally nonchalant, and Voight pursed his lips. He knew some of the officers thought there was something between him and Benson. They didn't address it because he hadn't much seen the point but now looking at Milani something started coming together.
"Actually started listening to gossip, did you Milani?"
She looked questioning, innocent. And he pressed. "You thought we were together, Benson and I. Ever since she was here."
Lana looked away, expression unconcerned, but her jaw was tight. "It seemed pretty obvious."
Voight ignored asking what that meant. He didn't actually care. "Is that why you haven't..."
He trailed off, and her gaze snapped back, daring him to tell her that wasn't a good enough reason to stop whatever thing it was she had with him, and Voight laughed.
A slightly off balance, exhausted laugh and laid his head back against the head rest.
"I wouldn't do that to Olivia, Milani. Or anyone."
Lana searched his expression, before she shook her head. She didn't know why she had brought it up, but she knew it was true. That was the one thing about Voight. He was loyal.
"Thanks for the ride."
She got out before she could say anything else stupid, and ran inside through the pouring rain.
The keys clacked beneath her fingertips and Lana listened to the sound in the otherwise silent office. The others were out, hitting the streets, looking for witnesses, running down even the vague possibility of a lead. The captain was breathing down their necks, like they wouldn't be doing their best to solve this without her looking over their shoulders, and Lana rolled her eyes.
It was after one when she found something. A social media post from right before the murder, a photo with a car parked in the background. It could be nothing, but she ran the plate.
It was from out of state, registered to a Martin Jackman. No priors. Only family listed was a wife, deceased. There didn't seem to be much there but she kept digging, found a phone number. Maybe he at least had seen something.
She called the number, breathed a little sigh when he answered. He sounded distracted, but paid more attention when she told him she was the police.
"This is about that officer I saw on the news? Yeah, terrible tragedy. Terrible. But, uh, not really sure how I can help?"
Lana explained how his vehicle had been near the scene, maybe he had seen something that had seemed inconsequential at the time that could help them.
"Would you be wiling to come down and answer a few questions?"
"Well, I can't really leave the job site. Maybe after? Although I'm supposed to-"
"How bout I come to you, would that work?"
She was already standing, gathering up her jacket, she scribbled a note on a post it. She would text Voight but she would stick this on his office door just to be safe.
The address he gave her was across town, and she texted for an uber, thankful for the sunshine. This might turn out to be nothing but it was worth the shot.
Voight didn't respond to her text, and she stepped out of the uber in front of a large warehouse.
The side door was unlocked and she crossed inside.
"Mr. Jackman?" She called into the empty room, "It's Officer Milani, we spoke on the phone?"
There were no employees. The equipment looked up to date, but there was no one operating it. Maybe they were on lunch, she surmised, but something still felt off.
"Ah, sorry I didn't hear you." Martin stepped around the corner, a middle aged man with a slightly protruding stomach, like he sort of kept himself in shape.
"My office is in the back. Don't mind the quiet," He waved a hand at the still machinery, "Shift change."
Lana followed him, reaching for her phone to check for any response from the team. The top corner flashed the no service icon and she frowned.
Martin showed her into a comfortably lit office, took the worn chair behind the desk and motioned for her to sit down. There were papers scattered everywhere and he shuffled them to the side a bit embarrassed.
"Excuse the mess. I go through a lot of data in a day," he laughed, a wide smile that plumped his cheeks, "Now how can I help you?"
Lana walked him through the day of the shooting, what he had seen, heard. He had been visiting a store, hadn't heard the commotion until he came back out and by that point the cops were there. He was sorry he couldn't help more but he really hadn't seen much.
Lana sighed, another waste of time. "Well, thank you for your time."
She stood, and shook the hand he offered. "You're busy here, I can show myself out."
At the office door, she paused. "You said you were shopping at Flannigans?"
He looked up from the report he had returned to, "Hmm, oh yeah. I get my work shirts from there."
"And you were there til what time?"
He frowned as if thinking, "8, 830?"
Lana hummed, "Well you have a good day."
She walked away from the office at a clipped pace, tugging her phone from her pocket. She had seen a report cross her desk earlier this week. The night of the murder, two stores had closed at five due to a gas leak. Flannigans was one of them.
She reached the front door when a shadow crossed it.
Martin Jackman stood in her way.
"I went out the back," he chirped, smiling at her surprise.
The gun in his hand did not look amused.
Voight checked his phone and frowned. Lana had gone out on a call. Normally he wouldn't be pleased she had done that without his say so, but given the situation, he would let it slide.
Ruzek and Olinsky had beat him back to the office, and he passed by them before spotting the sticky note on his door. He plucked it off with a distracted half smile. Most IT people tried to shove tech down his throat like a new fangled religion. Lana worked with what her team needed and he appreciated that.
He had barely sat down when Ruzek stuck his head in the door.
"Think we got something."
"I didn't mean for this," Martin gestured toward the chair Lana had been forced into, waving the gun like a conductor's wand. "But I could tell something was up. Don't know how, but you figured me out, didn't you?"
Lana counted her breaths. Stayed calm. Stayed thinking.
"I still don't know why you did it," she offered, and he laughed, turning in place.
"Well that's the beauty of it, isn't it. The beauty of corruption. You're all so blind you can't see what's right in front of your face."
"What am I looking at here," Voight demanded, and Ruzek scrolled through the news article they had found.
"Ok, so when we were looking into Officer Alder's past we missed something. About six months before his transfer here, our officer was involved in a shooting. The suspect was killed but a stray bullet from the suspect's gun hit and killed a woman. Her husband made accusations against Officer Alder at the time, but because it was ruled to be the fault of the suspect, it never made it on to Alder's transfer record. I found it in an old town's news article online from where Alder was stationed before in Portland."
"So this husband, you like him for it?"
"His social media says he moved here a couple months ago."
Voight nodded, "Alright, call the team, get me an address. Let's find this guy."
He dialed Lana, wanting her to get started on a warrant. She could get one faster than any of them.
"Hey, what's this guy's name?" Voight snapped, frowning as Lana's phone sent him straight to voicemail.
"Martin Jackman."
His thumb froze in the process of hitting redial. His hand went to the crumpled note in his pocket Lana had left on his door.
An address, and a name.
He slammed the post-it note down on Ruzek's desk, that molten kind of fear filling him.
"This address. Now. Lana is with him."
Ruzek went to question, but Olinsky pushed him to the door. They didn't have to know why. They just needed to move.
Lana was watching, looking for an opening. Something. Voight knew she was here but wouldn't know to come looking for her. She couldn't call for help with no signal. Keeping him talking was her goal.
"A cop killed my wife. But you know what happened? Nothing. They covered it up. Neat as could be like she was nothing but a convenient puzzle! Blamed it on the guy they killed. Perversion from start to finish and he got away with it. He got away!"
"You told the police this?"
He laughed, a warbled crazed edge and she stayed still as his gaze flailed about the room.
"You think that did anything? You think a guilty cop actually faces any consequences? You're all guilty. For the cover ups. The lies. You defend eachother against the truth!"
"Mr. Jackman," Lana shook her head, this wasn't just a ploy to talk him down now. If what he said was true... she couldn't even fathom that anger. "I wish I could tell you that there aren't officers like that. But the truth is, some are. It's sickening, and there needs to be justice, but it doesn't mean that the badge doesn't still stand for something. That there aren't still plenty of us trying to do the right thing. We can look into this, into what happened to your wife. You can help us find that justice."
He grew strangely calm at that. "You're going to help me... are you telling me, that you aren't guilty? That there's nothing you've done that you don't deserve to be punished for?"
Lana swallowed, feeling the truth land heavy in her stomach, weighing it down.
She was guilty.
It had gotten ruled an accident. Everyone said the other driver was at fault. But they should have had time to stop. They never should have hit that car. If they had reacted quicker, if it wasn't for-
She broke the thought off. Martin Jackman wasn't done.
Voight pulled in front of the warehouse, drew his gun and stepped low from the vehicle. He wasn't waiting for backup.
Lana had gone in. With the man who had already killed one cop.
There was no way in hell he was waiting.
He stepped onto the shaded floor of the warehouse, heard a raised voice in the back. He followed the echoed sounds.
The words grew more discernable. Clearer. And his heart grew cold.
"I did my research, Milani. I know about your little boss. Dirty cop sent to jail just to get out? Given his own little team to run around with? Oh I didn't plan for you Milani, but I'm glad I found you. You're just as dirty as Alder, working for a man like Hank Voight. You deserve what's coming to you. You all do."
He stomped towards her, cold steel barrel pressed to her forehead, and Lana kicked hard. His knee cap gave out and her hands went to the gun. She twisted free, jerking away as the chair tilted and collapsed.
It was a struggle. His blind fury and crushing weight bearing down on her.
She got control. He reached for the weapon.
The sound of the gun going off exploded through the warehouse.