"Hey man," Fin said casually. "You've been a tough guy to get a hold of these days."
Brandon had just exited the vacation home through the garage, garbage bag in hand. He immediately froze at the sound of Fin's voice. The sun had set, and a lone streetlight positioned at the end of the driveway provided the only light for the darkened cul-de-sac. The glow only partially illuminated Fin's face, so he stepped further into the light.
Upon recognizing the car, Brandon glanced around as if he were looking for a place to hide. Fin prayed that the younger man wouldn't do anything stupid. He would be icing his knees for a week if the dumbass decided to run. He should have brought Velasco.
Brandon pushed his glasses up with his free hand and casually finished his trek to the garbage bin. He calmly lifted the lid and tossed the garbage bag in. The top slammed shut, and Brandon wiped his palms on the fabric of his jeans. Fin wasn't sure if he was wiping sweat or the residue from the garbage bag, but either way he appeared nervous.
Thankfully, Brandon seemed to have resigned himself to his fate. He didn't make any effort to walk closer, but he stuffed his hands in his pockets, indicating he most likely planned on staying put.
Fin didn't want to have a shouted conversation from across the driveway, so he closed the distance between them. When he finally stood within speaking distance, Fin asked, "Ya mind comin' down to the station? Answer a few questions for us." It wasn't a polite request but a command.
Brandon licked his lips and shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously. "Uh. I'm not under arrest or anything, right? Like I could say no."
Fin rolled his eyes. Brandon's attempt at defiance was half-hearted at best. The guy wanted to act like a badass, but it didn't take a genius to see that he was already scared shitless. Fin decided to lean more heavily into his intimidation tactic.
"Sure. You could refuse, but," Fin let the words hang heavy in the air before completing his thought, "we know where to find ya now." He could stifle the smirk making its way over his lips. "And I have zero problems with callin' Stabler." Brandon's face immediately paled. Fin chuckled ruefully. "I've kept him away for now, but you and I both know how he gets…especially when he thinks some idiotic dumbass hurt his kid."
Brandon lifted his hands defensively and stepped closer. "I didn't hurt Liz. I would never..." he groaned. "You know, not like that. I'm guilty of putting her through a lot of shit, but I didn't…" His eyes dropped to the cement sidewalk beneath their feet. "You gotta believe me," his voice gained a pleading quality, "I would never do this to her. Never," he repeated vehemently.
"If you are such a choir boy, why are you laying low? If you got nothin to do with this then you would just come in and answer our questions. Clear your name."
Fin crossed his arms and leaned against his squad car. His gut was telling him Brandon was telling the truth, but there were hoops to jump through, and Liv's instructions were clear. Bring him in.
Fin pushed a little more. "Where's your boy Evan?" Fin's eyes drifted to the lit windows on the house's main floor. "We know he's been skippin' out on work this week, and we know this is his parent's place."
Brandon's shoulders slumped. "Come on, man. I've had this week off on my schedule for weeks now. You can check with my boss if you want. Evan, my brother, and I come out here a couple of times a year to just hang out and do whatever we want for a few days. Evan's got nothin to do with any of this. He just wanted to help me, you know, just take a break and get away from everything. I wasn't going to come on this trip because of everything, but he said I needed to get away for a little bit. Decompress a bit."
Fin could care less about this man's comfort. His very recent ex was raped, and he decided he needed a mental health vacation. The kid was a coward, and Fin found himself losing patience with the entire exchange. "Well, you might want to tell your friend to get his ass out here."
"What!? Why?" Brandon snapped defensively.
"You're gonna need an alibi, and I'm guessing Evan's gonna want to do that, and he's got to explain why he's lettin his buddy lay low at his place while the cops investigate your ex-girlfriend's sexual assault." Fin's tone started off even and neutral, but a low-lying anger bubbled up, making his final words come out with a harsh bite.
Brandon's eyes widened, and for a moment Fin thought the idiot was going to continue arguing. Instead, Brandon nodded slowly. He took a breath and swallowed deeply, eyes never leaving Fin's as he fumbled with his phone. His hands shook as he scrolled through his contacts, and eventually he lifted his phone to his ear.
"Hey," he greeted in a low voice. It felt like he was trying to hide the conversation even though Fin could hear every word on his end.
"Uh, yeah, the cops are here. Yeah. Yeah. I know, but they said they need you too." He paused while Evan responded. "I'm sorry I dragged you into all of this," Brandon mumbled. There was another pause before he said, "Yeah, man. Me too." He sighed and removed the phone from his ear. "He's grabbing his jacket. He'll be out in a sec."
-000-
Trigger Warning*
Lizzie had never been afraid of the dark. Never. Dickie slept with a nightlight until they were ten, but Liz never needed it. There was a stillness—a calm—only found in the dark. Daylight brought the hustle and bustle of a large family and all the noise and demands that came with it. She felt lost in the shuffle—unable to hear her own thoughts. For her, darkness brought clarity. She never feared the creatures that lurked in the shadows.
But as she lay in the spare room of her father's apartment, the darkness sat heavily on her chest. Flashes of that night proudly paraded through her mind every time she closed her eyes.
Kathleen leaving the apartment with a nervous smile.
The color of her drink sitting on a coaster with frayed edges.
The opening and closing of the bar door as people came and went.
The bartender asking if she was okay...
She pushed every thought away, desperately trying to clear her mind, but the heavy darkness had wound itself tightly around her. The darkness brought the feeling of cold, slim fingers wrapping around her throat, choking the life out of her.
Shadows. She could only remember shadows—glimpses of darkness. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't banish the thoughts, but she also couldn't find the strength to conjure back the image of their faces. In her mind they were ghosts—demons—without real shape or form.
She might not remember their faces, but she would never forget the hushed urgency of their voices while forcing her face into the mud of a dingy alley.
"How much did she drink?"
One man barked at the other. But she didn't remember anything else beyond the pull of her hair while her face was simultaneously shoved into a muddy puddle.
She tried to scream, but the dirty water filled her mouth, resulting in a muffled gurgle.
But that voice. She could hear it clear as day, echoing in the dark recesses of her mind.
"Would you hurry up? Someone's gonna hear somethin'."
Tears filled her eyes as she lay in the silent guest room. Her serenity no longer lived in the quiet, dark nights. She had learned there were real-life monsters in the dark—monsters that stole everything from her.
The dark betrayed her, and it threatened to swallow her whole.
-000-
Olivia's hand shot out, groping around in the darkness for her phone. Her fingers finally came into contact with the smooth screen, and she lifted it above her as its shrill ring continued to break through her silent apartment.
It was Elliot.
"Shit," she muttered aloud while simultaneously tossing her blankets off her body.
She slid her finger over the screen and answered, "What's wrong?"
"She's okay. Mostly. She says she remembers something, but she's…" Olivia could almost see his hand scrubbing over his face in helpless frustration. "She doesn't want me. She wants you." He stumbled through an apology. "I'm sorry. I wanted to give you one night, and I tried to get her to talk to me, but she kept asking for you."
She held the phone to her ear with one hand and rummaged through her drawers with the other. She knew he felt discouraged that his daughter didn't trust him with the details of her assault, but Olivia was grateful she was talking at all. Elliot had a lot of work to do mending the bridges he burned a decade ago, and there was no shortcut to the process. " El," she said gently, "you know it's easier for victims to speak about their experience more openly when they don't have a family member there." She swallowed as a familiar emotion bubbled into her chest. "There is a lot of shame there. You know she's blaming herself for a lot of this, and it doesn't matter what you say or how you reassure her; she doesn't want to disappoint or hurt you."
"It's not about me," he said humbly. She knew he was trying. Really trying.
"You're right. It's not, but she loves you. She wants to protect you because she knows the details will hurt you." Olivia pulled a loose-fitting shirt over her head while trying to keep the phone close to her ear. "You might think you can handle whatever she might need to say, but what matters is she doesn't think you can."
"I just want to help."
"I know that. She knows that, but we both know she feels like her life is spiraling. She is a pleaser, Elliot. She doesn't want you to be sad or disappointed. Even the idea of that hurts her, and it's magnified by this entire situation."
A shaky sigh floated over the line. "I know. I'll… I'll be patient. I just…"
"You want to fix it," she finished for him while sliding on her shoes. She slipped into the hallway and stood outside of Noah's door. Her normal emergency sitter was out of town, so he would have to come with her. "Think of it this way. You did everything you could to protect your family—your kids—from the dark things in the world. Kids learn best by example, and she's doing what she knows how to do. She's protecting the ones she loves." Her throat tightened with emotion. "She's more like you than anyone realizes."
"If she is, then she's the best of whatever I have to offer." His voice was low and held a note of self-deprecation.
"She is," Olivia agreed affectionately. "Look. I gotta get Noah up and in the car. I'll text you when we are on our way."
"Okay," he breathed out the word in relief. "Thank you, Liv," he said with deep sincerity.
Olivia tried swallowing back the lump in her throat, but her voice still sounded strained when she replied. "Your welcome," she responded sincerely. "See you soon."