Chapter 12: Justifying The Means

Three Weeks Later

Monday 12:05 PM

Olivia clicked off the television with a loud sigh, tossing the remote control onto the couch beside her. Daytime TV really did suck.

She had already watched all the episodes of Women's Murder Club that Alex had hidden on the DVR in her bedroom. The cases could have been better, but she had to admit, the subtext between the broody, dark haired inspector and the little red-headed reporter was entertaining, even if she had been rooting for the blonde at first.

She had also spent an hour thinking of all the ways she could tease Alex about her trashy television impulses, but that would have to wait until the blonde found her way home from work.

So once again, Olivia was left to her own devices and finding the tedium of a perfectly good afternoon spent inside more than she could bear.

Maybe she could use that as an excuse for why she was being so snarky to Alex. The lawyer had insisted that Olivia come home with her when she had been released from the hospital two weeks earlier. She had taken the first ten days of the detective's convalescence off work, handling her caseload by phone and email while she tended to Olivia's injuries and tried to get the stubborn detective to let her take care of her. Olivia had fought her tooth and nail, of course; except during the sponge baths.

She wasn't a fool.

She'd had plenty of visitors at first. Elliot, Kathy, Munch, Fin and Cragen all took turns stopping in to see her until her bitchiness eventually drove them away as well. She wasn't actively trying to be an ass, but for someone who rarely ever stopped moving, three long weeks of inactivity were a torture she could barely tolerate.

So when Elliot had made a surprise visit three days earlier to shove the Wainscott case files into her hands, she would have kissed him if he had stayed long enough.

Rereading the files had kept her mind occupied when Alex went back to work. She would sit for hours at the dining room table pouring over every detail of the case, rebuilding the timeline and committing all of it to memory for when she had to take the stand.

Now all they needed was for Peter Kinkaid to wake up and verify everything they already knew.

The sound of the key in the front door pulled Olivia from her thoughts, a bright smile lighting up her face as Alex walked in with a large white bag in her hands.

"Hey!" Olivia went to stand up but quickly sank back onto the couch when Alex looked at her pointedly. It wasn't that the pain was all that bad anymore; in fact, her doctor had been amazed at how swiftly she had recovered. No, the truth was that in the short time they had been cohabitating Alex had become amazingly attuned to any shift in her body language. And since the doc was basing her release date on the lawyer's frequent reports, it was better if she didn't piss her off. "What's that?" She pointed to the bag.

Alex leaned down, giving her a gentle but lingering kiss before answering. "Meatball subs from Nardo's."

Olivia's mouth started to water. "Are you kidding me?" She eagerly reached into the bag, pulling out a foot-long sub and tearing off the wrapper before taking a huge bite. Her eyes rolled back in ecstasy as little sounds of happiness escaped from her throat. Since she had left the hospital, Alex had watched over her diet like a hawk, making sure it consisted of only nutritionally sound food; healthy, but boring as hell. A foot long sub from Nardo's was like ambrosia from the gods.

As Olivia was taking her second bite, a thought occurred to her and she glanced at the clock on the mantle. Twelve-fifteen? Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Not that I don't appreciate the food delivery, but what are you doing home this early?"

Alex studied the older woman for a moment. "The hospital called my office an hour ago."

Olivia swallowed quickly, tossing the sandwich onto the living room table. "Is he awake?"

"Olivia… Peter Kinkaid died this morning."

The detective's face went pale. "What?"

"It was a blood clot. It formed in his lungs and they didn't catch it in time. There was nothing they could do."

Olivia's face went stony. "So what does that mean?"

Alex sighed.

"No!" The brunette jumped up and began to pace, ignoring the pain in her side. "Do not tell me that bastard is going to get away with this, Alex!" She rubbed her forehead. "What about the fact that he was the one who released Kinkaid from FenBrooke only to have the guy kill his daughter two weeks later?"

"They would argue that Kinkaid went after Samantha out of revenge; a means of getting even with the man that put him away in the first place. It's what we all believed at first."

"What about the money?" Olivia demanded. "We have the records of the ten thousand dollars Wainscott transferred into Kinkaid's account a week before the murder!"

Alex shook her head. "The money was actually transferred from the Preston Charities account for Fresh Start. It is a program designed to help youth offenders get back on their feet after their release, Olivia. Granted, the amount is about four times the normal allocation but that isn't enough to charge him."

Olivia tangled her fingers in her hair, pulling on it in frustration. "What about the key? And what about me? What about what Kinkaid told me in that warehouse?"

"There were no fingerprints on the key and it was found in Kinkaid's apartment. Without a witness we can't prove Samuel gave it to him. And as for Kinkaid's confession… an injured detective, suffering from massive blood loss…" The blonde rose and walked over to her, taking her face between her hands. "I believe he told you everything you say he did, Olivia. But a good defense attorney could plant enough reasonable doubt to sway a jury and everything else is circumstantial. I would be lucky to get the indictment… we would lose at trial."

"So he just gets away with murder?"

Alex frowned. "We needed Peter Kinkaid's corroboration; a signed confession implicating Wainscott. Without it, we're dead in the water."

Olivia growled in frustration, her pacing becoming almost frenzied in her anger.

The ADA reached out and touched her arm, pulling back in surprise when the brunette went completely still, her gaze focused intently on the ground.

When she finally raised her head and looked at Alex, there was a strange gleam in her eyes. "So…" she smiled. "Exactly who knows Kinkaid is dead?"


Monday 02:45 PM

Alex stepped into the interrogation room, not surprised to see Trevor Langan sitting next to Samuel Wainscott, a smug expression on his face.

"Alex Cabot!" He made a big show of looking behind her. "Where's your attack dog? Someone finally teach her some manners?"

The ADA ignored the bait. "Trevor." She inclined her head in greeting. "I guess sharks are attracted to blood."

"My client has no blood on his hands." The defense attorney smiled and she immediately felt the need for a shower. "At most, he is guilty of a lapse in good judgment."

The blonde shook her head in amazement. "That's obtuse… even for you, Trevor."

"So what's with the rush on this meeting? You guys have been dragging your heels for the last three weeks. Now suddenly it has to be today? What's going on?"

Alex linked her fingers and stared at him silently, a confident smile her only response.

The smugness faltered slightly. "Can we speed this up, Counselor? The Judge and I have a four o'clock tee off time."

"Not unless Rikers has recently installed a green I'm unaware of." She opened her briefcase and pulled out a small stack of papers before sitting down.

"Rikers?" Trevor laughed. "You know there's no judge in New York who would ever hold Samuel Wainscott on remand. He'll be out in time for happy hour."

Alex smiled humorlessly as she slid on her glasses. "The next cocktail he gets will be served intravenously."

The defense attorney straightened his tie. It looked casual, but Alex saw it for what it was: a nervous reaction. Beside him, his client had turned an interesting shade of white. "What exactly is it that you think you have on my client, Ms. Cabot?"

She pulled a photo from her stack of papers and laid it on the table between them.

Trevor leaned forward, drawing the picture closer with the tips of his fingers as though it were somehow diseased. "A key?" He scoffed.

"A very specific key. It's one of three that were provided by the realtor when your wife Julia purchased your daughters apartment. Do you see the serial number engraved on the side?" Her finger slid across the photograph, drawing a line under the numbers shown in sharp relief. "According to the Building Supervisor, this particular key was assigned to you, Samuel. We found it in Peter Kinkaid's apartment."

She placed a photocopied court order next to the picture of the key. "This is your signature approving Peter Kinkaid's early release from the FenBrooke Psychiatric Facility."

She placed two more photocopies side by side. "This is Peter Kinkaid's bank statement. It shows a transfer from the Preston Charity Fresh Start, approved by you, in the amount of ten thousand dollars."

"All circumstantial." Trevor waved his hand over the documents as though he could make them disappear.

"And this?" She laid down several pages of handwritten script. "This is a signed confession implicating your client."

"It was an intervention!" Wainscott blurted out.

"Sam, shut up!" Langan warned.

Alex leaned back in her chair as she looked at the judge thoughtfully. "An intervention?" She could feel the fear emanating from him. The fear of going to prison with hundreds of men he had put there himself. "You released a dangerously unstable man from a psychiatric facility to stage an intervention? Explain, please."

"Peter and I… we spoke several times over the years; whenever his case came up for review. He shared my views on the perversion my daughter was caught up in and he was sympathetic to what I was going through. He said he could help me. But he was just supposed to remove those disgusting things from my daughter's apartment. That's all! She wasn't supposed to be there! She logged a flight plan with the family jet to take her to Miami that week, I checked! I was going to be there waiting for her when she got back. I was going to make her get some help!" He shook off Trevor's hand when the defense attorney tried to get his attention. "She wasn't even supposed to be there!"

"So," Alex pursed her lips. "You're stating that you sent Peter Kinkaid to your daughter's apartment for the sole purpose of removing her… sex toys… in an attempt to stage an intervention against her self-abusive sexual practices?"

Wainscott dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders shaking. "Yes."

"That's your story?" She didn't try to hide her skepticism.

"Yes!"

"Samuel," Alex began to gather her paperwork from the table. "You do realize that Samantha's apartment was transferred into her name upon your wife's death which means that, even if you had a key, any attempt on your part to enter the dwelling would be considered breaking and entering?"

His voice was very small. "Yes."

"And do you further realize that the act of compensating someone to remove property that is not yours from a residence that you have provided illegal entry to constitutes robbery?"

"Yes."

Alex stopped what she was doing and leaned on the table, lowering her head to look Wainscott in the eyes. "And do you understand that the monetary value of the items you have stated you sent your agent there to collect exceeds sixteen thousand dollars?"

Trevor grabbed his clients arm a second too late.

"Yes."

Alex smiled. "Which makes it a felony." She watched the judge's eyes widen as understanding slammed home. She knew he was aware of what she was going to say next but she enjoyed saying it nonetheless. "And a murder committed during the commission of a felony as the result of the actions or interference of another person constitutes felony murder, whether the acts were intentional or accidental, and criminal liability can be imposed upon all participants involved in the felony… including accomplices assisting before the commission of the crime."

She watched his jaw drop. "In addition to the felony murder charge, we will also be filing charges of conspiracy to commit felony murder in regards to Serra Tate, who was NOT included on the flight plan to Miami that week, which you would have known, had you checked as you previously stated. Add to that the B&E charges, the robbery charge and the fraud and falsification of government documents and you're looking at forty three years minimum."

"You're insane!" Trevor sputtered.

Alex straightened to her full height, pulling her glasses to the tip of her nose as she looked down at him. "I may not be able to put a needle in his arm, but you can rest assured that the DA's office will be recommending the maximum for each charge and that all sentences run consecutively." She looked directly at Langan, one eyebrow rising slightly as her lips quirked into a satisfied grin. "Which means that my children will be sending your clients to prison before parole is even an option."

For a moment, both of the men were silent. Then Wainscott began to cry softly. "I loved Sammy. It wasn't supposed to be her. It was never supposed to be her. He was supposed to kill Tate. I just wanted to save her..."

"If you had ever bothered to actually talk to your daughter, she might have confided in you that she and Serra had already split up." His eyes met hers, full of shock and remorse, but she couldn't bring herself to feel sorry for him. "That's what hate and intolerance will get you, Samuel. Was it worth it?"

He didn't answer and Alex began to slide the paperwork back inside her bag.

"Come on, Cabot; there's a deal to be made here!" Trevor gave her his most ingratiating smile. "What are you offering?"

Alex's gaze traveled from the lawyer she despised to the judge she had known for years. "My condolences..." she picked up her briefcase, pausing by the door on her way out. "…to the woman who loved your daughter."

The attorney stepped out of the interrogation room, her eyebrows going up in surprise when she found herself with a burly arm thrown across her shoulders as soon as the door shut behind her. Looking up, she blinked at Elliot's smiling face. He had been nervous at first about sending the lawyer in alone, but Olivia had been adamant that Alex could do it.

And she had been right.

Elliot shook his head in amusement as he laughed. "Couldn't have done it better myself."

Pleased by the compliment and feeling absurd for being so, Alex merely nodded, accepting his congratulations with good grace.

"We're all going down to O'Malley's to celebrate. Think she's up to it?" He asked hopefully.

The lawyer laughed. "I'm sure she would say she is. I'll pick her up and meet you guys there."

Elliot looked at her in surprise. "That's it? No arguments about her needing to rest?"

Alex had the good grace to blush. She had been declining invitations from the squad for the last week, wanting to give Olivia enough time to recuperate. But she knew there was no way she would be able to keep the stubborn detective from this particular celebration. "I think she can handle one beer." She held her finger up in front of the detective's nose. "One."

Elliot plastered an innocent look on his face and nodded. "I do solemnly swear to follow the directions of my ADA."

"Well," She smirked. "There's a first time for everything." As she collected her jacket she glanced at Cragen who had been eyeing her speculatively. "Is something wrong?"

"No." He shook his head ruefully. "I was just thinking. I know it's legal for us to lie to get a confession from a perp, but it's not something I've ever seen you do before. Quite honestly, I didn't think I ever would."

Alex grinned at him. "I just said it was a signed confession, Captain. I never said it was Peter Kinkaid's."


Tuesday 02:48 AM

Alex moaned softly in her sleep, her tongue reaching out to wet her lips as the most exquisite sensations began to sweep through her body. She tried to arch her back as they intensified only to find that she was pinned to the bed by a firm weight lying across her abdomen. Opening her eyes, she looked down, breathing heavily as she took in the sight of Olivia with her lips wrapped around one of her nipples while her fingers gently massaged the other.

"What are you doing, baby?" She swallowed as her body trembled.

Olivia looked up at her and grinned wickedly. "Arguing my case."

Alex laughed. "I thought we shelved these proceedings until further notice." She put her hands on either side of Olivia's face and gently pulled her up for a kiss. When they broke apart, she looked at her soberly. "You're supposed to be taking it easy."

"Then be easy!" She raised one eyebrow lecherously. "I mean, come on, Alex! It's been weeks; weeks of lying next to you in this bed and not being able to touch you. I'm a cop, not a saint!"

"You're an injured cop." She brushed at the hair that always fell across Olivia's forehead. God, how she loved that hair. "You were shot, remember?"

"Vaguely." She leaned down until her mouth was a breath away from the blonde's neck. "But I wasn't shot in the lips." She kissed her gently then bit down. "Or the teeth." Her hand traveled down the smooth skin of Alex's side, raising goose bumps in its wake. "Or in my hand…" She slid her fingers into the warmth between the younger woman's thighs, groaning at the moisture that had already pooled there. Closing her eyes, she starting to move down Alex's body. "Or my tongue…"

"Wait, baby, wait." Alex put her fingers under the brunette's chin and raised her head so that she could look into her eyes. "If we do this, you have to promise me you'll wait a day longer before asking the doctor to release you."

Olivia's eyes widened. "Seriously? You're a lawyer and you're throwing quid pro quo at me?"

Alex shrugged. "You're lucky it isn't costing you a day per orgasm."

The detective considered that a moment. "You could be right…"

"Listen… I know I can't keep you safe; that what you do is dangerous and that risking your life is a big part of your job. I accept that. But I can make sure that when you do go back, you're a hundred percent. Please… let me do what I can."

Olivia swallowed. "All right." She grinned as she began her descent once again. "But only because you love me so much."

"You love me more." Alex teased, before the brunette's tongue touched her and she lost the ability to speak. As Olivia proceeded to turn her world upside down, she amended her previous statement, the words repeating over and over in her head.

No… not possible…


Epilogue – Everybody Needs A Hobby

Elliot looked up, whistling appreciatively as his partner walked out of the Captain's office. She was still decked out for court, wearing a sharp pin-striped charcoal suit that seemed just a little too tight for her. He raised his eyebrow lecherously and then laughed when she flipped him off. "So?"

Olivia sat down at her desk. "Forty-five minutes." She beamed. "It took the jury forty-five minutes to come back guilty on all counts. Alex and I had just sat down at the restaurant. We hadn't even ordered our lunch yet and we had to rush back to court to watch Wainscott and Langan go down in flames. Sentencing is next week."

Her partner nodded happily. "So what does Alex think?"

She sighed, setting down the two firearms she had just retrieved from Cragen. "The needle's off the table. Wainscott may have been responsible, but there's still the lack of intent. She's pretty sure he'll get life. And since he'll have to spend most of that time in segregation for his own safety, I'd say that might even be worse." She picked up the Glock, checking the action quickly before sliding it into the holster on the side of her pants. It made the elegant jacket stick out at an odd angle, but from the smile on her face, she couldn't have cared less. Then she picked up the .32, running her fingers lovingly over the rosewood grips.

Elliot couldn't help ragging on her. "So I.A.B. actually gave you back that pea shooter? I figured they'd write you up for carrying such a girly gun."

Olivia threw him a nasty look. She inspected the small clip then tipped the barrel up to add an extra round from her desk before sliding the automatic into the holster on her ankle. "I'll have you know this 'girly gun' is a Berretta Tomcat. It may be small, but it's powerful… and it saved my ass!"

His lip curled slightly. "Eh, maybe it wouldn't look so bad if you didn't put those pink grips on it."

"They're not pink…!" Her voice trailed off as she looked at him fondly. "God I've missed you!"

Elliot grinned, watching as she spun from side to side in her chair and caressed the edge of her blotter. "So the doctor released you to desk duty, huh?"

"Yup!" Her grin lit up the room. "One step closer to getting back on the street!"

"How's Alex handling it?"

Olivia paused, a goofy smile plastering itself onto her face. She stared off into space for a few moments until Elliot cleared his throat, causing a flush to creep up her neck. "She's doing a lot better. She's worried that I'm trying to come back too soon, but she relaxed a bit once the stitches came out."

"Glad to hear it, but that's not what I meant."

She arched an eyebrow. "What did you mean?"

"How's she dealing with the lack of small talk?"

Olivia stared at him in confusion for a moment then rolled her eyes as she groaned, "You're an idiot!"

Ignoring his laughter, she opened one of the numerous files on her desk; a small smile playing at her lips as she finally got back to work.

The End (?)

One More Click That-a-way if you please! --