During the interval between Elena and John getting off the elevator and the two of them stepping outside of Radial Velocity, they only spoke once, except when John enlightened Elena with the case's details.
Elena was in deep thought as they entered the building. She pondered over the details John had shared with her, trying to piece together a solution. As they reached the parking lot,
It seems the case involves a man named Andrew Croft, whose body was found abandoned in Queens. He was shot in the head and burned in the groin. According to what John told her, the bullet to the head happened in his apartment, and along with the two other detectives assigned to the case, they discovered that he had just started working for Radial Velocity, where John and Elena are currently being escorted by security upstairs to speak with 's boss.
The chrome elevator doors hissed open, disgorging them into the sterile lobby of Radial Velocity. Yang's thanks to the guards hung in the air, brittle as ice against the polished marble. Inside, the air hummed with a forced sterility, the scent of fresh paint and ambition clinging like cobwebs. They walked towards a table piled high with boxes, each one a mute testament to the life cut short. A man emerged from the shadows, his face a mask of corporate grief.
"Detectives, I'm Carig Prince," he intoned, his voice as polished as the mahogany desk behind him. "Andrew Croft's supervisor."
Beside him, another man, This is Talph Noble
"Security," Noble responds.
Yang's gaze narrowed like a hawk's. "This," she said, gesturing to the boxes.
It's a sad day for us I wish I could say more. Anyway, "is everything from Mr. Croft's office?" Prince's smile, thin as a razor blade, flickered. "Except for what's classified, of course." Prince gestures toward the stack of papers and boxes on the table in front of Elena and John
Elena's brow furrowed. Was Mr. Croft's job classified?
He was a guidance system analyst Prince's smile vanished, replaced by a glacial stare. "That's all I can say.
"He just transferred here."
"Who's to be notified in case of an emergency?" Munch asks
Prince's lips twitched, a cruel amusement playing on his features. "Classified, Detective."
"Please? The man had a son," Yang said. "Something happens. Who looks out for him?"
Prince's gaze was as cold as a crypt. "Not our concern."
Munch's voice, usually a gravelly rumble, cracked with a sharp edge. "Do we have to get a court order?
Prince's smile, once practiced with politesse, contorted into a brittle mask. "Feel free to try, Detective," he spat, his eyes flashing with a flicker of something dangerous beneath the veneer of corporate calm.
What are the odds," he drawled, eyes narrowed at Prince, "that you have a picture of Senator Joseph McCarthy tattooed on your ass?"
Maybe that's classified too?" Yang retorted
The air crackled. Prince's carefully constructed composure faltered, a flicker of anger replacing his forced smile. "Leave the doll in the garage, huh?" he spat, the taunt dripping with contempt. A smirk flickered across his lips before he stalked off, the echo of his retreating footsteps a stark punctuation mark on the tense scene.
Elena and John exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between them. Their frustration was palpable—a bitter taste in their mouths. "First day back, and I already want to punch someone," Yang muttered, her voice a low growl.John chuckled with a low, rueful sound. Grabbing a box of Croft's files, she followed John out of the office, the weight of the secrets they carried heavier than the cardboard in their arms.
...
When Elena and John return, they go through all of the paperwork they received from Radial Velocity. At the same time, Craigan had returned to the province. "Radial Velocity's redacted 1,200 pages of documents... down to the occasional adverb," Munch tells him, and he walks over to the desk.
"There's not a complete sentence in anything Craig Prince gave us," Yang chimes into the conversation as she sits in her desk across from Johns
"It is National security," Cragian responds as he takes hold of some of the documents from the desk.
"We're looking for a murderer, and the victim's missing kid, Craig Prince, is giving us: "Here's your hat; what's your hurry?" Munch says, You'd think they'd want to help us catch Croft's killer instead of burying everything under the rubric of national security."
"It's too convenient; there's something else going on here," Yang says
As Munch takes hold of the office phone on his desk and places it up to his ear. "It's Munch. No, I want to see your spookass now!"
John then went to speak with someone he knew who had any possible information on anyone who worked in the Radial Velocity, while Elena finished going through the rest of the documents for any possible information.
...
The day bled away, leaving a trail of crumpled paper and frustrated sighs in its wake. As Elena cleared her desk, the weight of the unsolved mystery settled on her shoulders like a shroud. Grabbing her jacket and the day's detritus, she made for the elevator. She found John waiting, his face a stoic mask. Their eyes met, and there was a silent exchange of exhaustion and unspoken questions. Elena offered a fleeting smile, a fragile bridge over the chasm between them.
The elevator doors slid open, swallowing them whole. The metallic cage hummed, a heartbeat in the sterile silence. Yang's voice, crisp and professional, cut through the air. "So I guess Detective Jeffries would normally be your partner on these cases, huh?"
Munch grunted, his gaze fixed on the shifting floor numbers. "Yeah, and once the Morris Commission blows over, you'll be outta here."
"Captain Craigan seems to have the same idea," Yang countered, her voice a silken blade. "Even though I'm sure, he doesn't have the final say."
"Homicide not your cup of tea anymore?" Munch's words sounded harsh but curious his eyes flickered towards her. "Surprised SVU was your landing zone, considering..."
Yang's smile turned brittle. "Homicide," she mused, the word tasting foreign on her tongue. "Right now, a change of scenery feels...right. Isn't that why you left too?" Her eyes, sharp and unwavering, met John's.
He opened his mouth to reply, but the elevator doors sliced open, severing the thread of conversation. They stepped out, the city lights painting their faces with a cool, indifferent glow.
"Good night, Detective Yang," Munch mumbled.
Elena, ready to protest his deflection of her question, stopped as he spoke again, his gaze softer now. "It was good to see a familiar face."
You too. See you tomorrow." she bid him farewell.