A/N #1: Sorry this took so long. Real life was horrible the last couple weeks and working on two stories at once really took it's toll. I will try to post more frequently!
A/N #2: The appearance of a certain character in this chapter is simply an homage to an actress I adore. It is not a cross-over. I promise!
Chapter Three: With Friends Like These…
203 W. 89th Street
06:26 AM Sunday, December 2
"Zoey!" Olivia took the young woman carefully by the arm. "Zoey! Are you hurt? Is this your blood?"
"I don't…" She blinked slowly, her hand going to the back of her head. "I don't…know…"
"Come inside." The detective led her through the living room and into the kitchen, snapping on the lights as she went.
"Olivia?" Alex came out of the bedroom, Olivia's robe wrapped tightly around her. "What's going on?" Her eyes widened. "Is that Zoe? From Velvet?"
"Yeah…" Olivia pressed the young woman into a chair and grabbed a clean towel from the drawer.
"What is she doing here? What happened?"
"I don't know." She ran some water over the towel, looking up in surprise when Alex grabbed her hand.
"What are you doing?" The ADA whispered harshly. "You can't clean her up! You need to call this in… get her to a hospital…"
"Alex!" She snatched her hand away. "Right now my priority is to make sure she's not going to bleed to death!"
Alex frowned, watching silently as the detective knelt next to the blonde's chair.
"Zoey? Look at me. Look at me, sweetheart." Olivia nodded when unfocused eyes met hers. "Are you hurt?" She spoke very slowly, concerned that the dazed look hadn't lessened.
Zoey reached for her head again, making Olivia stand and carefully cup the blonde's jaw. She found a trail of dried blood that ended below her chin and followed it up to the back of her head; brushing her fingers through the gel stiffened spikes to find a wide gash that had already clotted, hiding most of the wound behind a thick brownish crust.
"Well that's ugly, but it doesn't look life threatening." She tossed the unneeded cloth onto the table as she finished examining Zoey's head, sliding her hands down to run them over the younger woman's neck and shoulders. When she found no other injuries, Olivia crouched down to look the blonde in the eyes. "Are you hurt anywhere else? Were you… assaulted? " She sighed, frowning at the blank look that was her only response. "Zoey… were you raped?"
The bartender looked up at her, her eyes clearing slightly as she tried to focus, her brow furrowing with the effort. "I… no..." Her hands gripped her own stomach, sliding down to cover her lower abdomen. "No."
"There's too much blood." Olivia pursed her lips as she rubbed at her forehead. "Zoey, listen to me… There is too much blood. Your entire shirt is covered in it." She grabbed her by the shoulders, her hands registering just how much empty space there was inside the jacket. "Whose blood is this?"
The blonde looked at her helplessly, her lower lip trembling as she shrugged.
"Jesus." Alex walked out of the kitchen, disappearing down the hallway in the direction of the bedroom.
Olivia watched her go, pushing down the sadness she felt inside. With a small shake of her head, she focused her attention back on Zoey. "You need to go to the hospital. The bleeding has stopped but we need a doctor to look at that gash. They need to take x-rays and… we need to figure out what the hell happened to you. Let me get dressed…" She started to move away, looking down in surprise when the young woman grabbed her by the arm and stared at her in a near panic. "Zoey," She said gently. "I'll go with you. But I can't do that in my underwear. I'll be right back, I promise."
Olivia untangled herself and rushed towards her bedroom, pulling up short when she ran into Alex in the hallway, the surprise evident on her face when she realized that the lawyer was completely dressed. "What are you doing?"
"Here." Alex shoved a pair of blue jeans and a sweatshirt into her hands. "I didn't think you'd take the time to get dressed."
"Thanks." Olivia nodded, sliding the clothes on and then running her fingers through a serious case of bed head. "We'll take her to Bellevue; have them do a rape kit just in case..."
"I'm not going with you."
Olivia blinked. "What…why?"
"I can't be here, Olivia."
"But… that's crazy!"
"Is it?" Alex took her by the hand and led her into the next room, pointing at Zoey through the kitchen door. "Look at her Olivia." Alex snapped. "In all likelihood she is either the victim or the witness of a violent crime. But you being her friend does not negate the very real possibility that she might be something else altogether." She held up a hand when she saw Olivia starting to get angry. "What we think doesn't matter. All that matters is what we know. And what I know is that you are questioning someone with whom you have a personal relationship in an improper setting." She sighed. "Whatever she is… I cannot be here!"
The detective took a deep breath. "All right." She tucked her hands into her pockets. "If that's how you feel about it."
"How I feel…?" Alex pressed her lips together in exasperation as Olivia stared down at the floor. "How I feel about it is angry… and worried for you!" She cupped her palm around the brunette's cheek, ducking her head to meet her eyes. "Olivia, I know you care about this girl. I don't know why but whatever the reason, it's obvious you do; which means that you are going to let your heart lead you on this one and as much as I love you… I can't follow. My position won't let me." She kissed her softly. "And neither should yours."
Alex left the apartment quietly, the sound of the door latch echoing in the silence.
462 1st Ave
Olivia yawned, frowning as she contemplated just how badly she needed a shower. Alex had taken precedence over personal hygiene when she had arrived home the night before, and then Zoey's dramatic appearance on her doorstep had completely knocked any thoughts of morning ablutions from her mind. But now, after sitting for three hours in an extremely uncomfortable waiting room chair, her desire for warm water and a bar of soap was almost overwhelming.
Olivia jumped up; going over to meet the emergency room doctor who looked like she would be just as comfortable in Armani as she was in hospital scrubs. Brushing self-consciously at her wrinkled sweatshirt, she nodded in greeting. "Is Zoey ok…" She peered at the ID badge attached to the front of the scrubs. "…Dr. Manning?"
"It was a nasty laceration, but head wounds always look a lot worse than they are." The doctor leaned her head to one side, looking at Olivia curiously with incredible sea-green eyes. "I don't suppose you would know the origin of all that blood, would you?" She handed the detective a large brown bag, sealed at the top; a manila envelope and a clipboard. "Because it certainly wasn't my patient's."
Olivia checked that the evidence form listed everything Zoey had been wearing and then scrawled her name across the bottom, handing the clipboard back with a wan smile as she tucked the bag and envelope under her arm. "At the moment, I don't have any idea." She tunneled her fingers through her hair. "There's no chance at all that it was hers?"
Dr. Manning leveled a sarcastic look at her.
"Yeah… that's what I figured." Olivia tucked her free hand in her pocket. "So she wasn't…"
"Raped? No." She smiled. "In fact, other than the head trauma she's in perfect physical condition." She flipped back a few pages on her clip board. "According to the x-rays there is a very fine cranial fracture and some swelling of the soft tissue which would account for the memory loss and disorientation. We're going to hold her here a few days for observation but we don't expect any complications. Oh… wait!" She bit her bottom lip as she dug in her back pocket, pulling out a small, black topped vial. "This is yours too."
Olivia took the vial, holding it up to the light. It was filled to the top with clear liquid that had two small silver flakes floating in it. "What's this?"
"I believe that's your job, detective." The doctor grinned at her, her tone teasing. "My job was to dig them out of the wound." She glanced down at the evidence slip. "Olivia… That's a lovely name." She held her hand out, grasping the detective's fingers warmly. "I'm Carly."
"Oh…" A light flush stained the brunette's cheeks as she finally clued in to what was going on. "It's nice to meet you…uh… Carly." She pulled her hand away quickly. "So… can I see her?"
"Of course. But, detective?"
Dr. Manning held the door open for her, watching with pursed lips as she passed through it. "You might want to put some effort into finding whoever that blood belongs to, because right about now? They're walking around a couple of pints low…"
The hospital room was dark when Olivia stepped inside and she thought at first that Zoey was sleeping. Until the blonde lifted her arm, waving weakly as her face contorted in pain.
"Why is it," She gasped. "That I got hit on the head but I feel it all over my body?"
"That's how head wounds are." Olivia perched carefully on the side of the bed. "They feel every little movement." She took the young woman's hand gently. "How bad is it?"
"You know… when you drink a Slurpee too fast?"
Olivia laughed softly.
"Like that, times a thousand."
"Well, Carly…I mean… Dr. Manning… says you're going to be just fine."
"Carly?" Zoey's eyebrows crawled up her forehead. "That was fast!" She couldn't keep from laughing, even as she groaned in pain. "I'm the injured one and I couldn't even get her to smile!"
Olivia felt her face flush hotly. "I didn't do anything! She… flirted with me."
"You didn't do anything? Anything like what? Like… walking in with that little swagger in your hips and your gun bulging under your shirt? Or anything like… tucking your hands in your pockets like some Sapphic James Dean?" When Olivia didn't answer she smiled and closed her eyes, mumbling sleepily. "Didn't do anything my ass. Just don't do whatever it is you're not doing when Cabot's around… that's all I'm sayin'."
"Hey…" Olivia shook her shoulder gently. "I know you're tired but do you think you could answer a few questions for me before you pass out?"
Zoey blinked, trying to drag herself back from the edge of oblivion. "I can try…" She held up her hand, displaying the IV needle sticking out of the back of it. "But this morphine cocktail they've got me on is really kicking my ass."
"Do you remember anything… anything at all about last night?"
The blonde's eyes narrowed. "No… I…I remember I was at the bar! It was late and the place was empty… so it was after closing."
"Was anyone else there with you?"
"The cleaning crew would have been there. But that's more like something I know than something I remembered." She shrugged in frustration. "It's like… everything's just blank. I remember standing behind the bar…I remember the wind… it was cold… and then I just woke up on the subway."
"What about the jacket?"
Zoey looked at her blankly. "What jacket?"
"You were wearing a brown leather jacket when you showed up on my doorstep."
The blonde shook her head. "I don't own a brown leather jacket. Both of mine are black."
"I don't think it was yours." Olivia patted the bag she had set down on the bed beside her. "It was about three sizes too big for you and looked like a men's cut."
"But… why would I be wearing a man's jacket?" She frowned. "That doesn't make any sense."
"Not much about this does."
Zoey suddenly looked very contrite. "I am sorry, you know… if I caused you any problems. Alex looked… pretty unhappy… when she left. I just… I didn't know what else to do. I knew I was in trouble and you were the first person I thought of."
Olivia smiled. "It's alright Zoey. You did the right thing. And don't worry about Alex. She's just a little…"
"I was going to say over-protective."
"Of what?" Zoey raised one eyebrow. "You… or her career?"
"You heard us."
"It was kind of hard not to."
Olivia hung her head slightly. "Alex has a point. Until we figure out exactly what happened, including whose blood is all over your clothes, we're going to have to treat this as an unsolved… which means I'm probably going to have to turn it over to another detective." She held up her hand when Zoey's eyes filled with panic. "I'll talk to my Captain. I can't promise you anything but…" Her voice trailed off as her phone started to ring. "Now what?"
Recognizing Elliot's number, she felt a pang of guilt for not having called him to explain what was going on. She held a finger up to Zoey as she flipped the phone open. "Benson."
"Elliot?" She cupped a hand over her ear, trying to improve the sound. "I can barely hear you! What did you say?"
"…ucking wind! We… got anoth… body…" His voice broke up as the line crackled.
"Another one?" Her mouth dropped open slightly. "But it's too soon! There's always been at least ten days between attacks. Elliot?"
"This… different…. business… man…"
"Elliot, just tell me where you are!" She practically shouted. "I'll meet you!" She pulled out a pad and wrote down the address. "The station at 116th?" Olivia felt her stomach drop as she read the address again. "Lex Avenue Express… I got it. I'll be there as soon as I can!"
She hung up the phone, taking a deep breath to try and calm the queasiness in her stomach before turning to face the young woman in the bed behind her.
Zoey was staring at Olivia with wide, horrified eyes. "A hundred…." She licked her lips. "116th?"
The detective nodded slowly.
"Olivia… that's two blocks from the bar…"
Olivia stayed with Zoey until the morphine finally pulled her under. To say the blonde had been upset was an understatement and she felt bad leaving her. As a compromise, she called in to dispatch and had them send over a couple of uniforms. Cragen was going to have her ass for the man hours, but she wasn't comfortable leaving the young woman alone until she knew for sure that the attack had not been centered on her personally.
When the patrolmen arrived, Olivia gave one of them the bag and the vial, watching carefully as he scratched his named across the evidence tape, before instructing him to leave his partner with Zoey and get all of the items checked in to the evidence locker back at the precinct.
The entire procedure took a little over thirty minutes and by the time Olivia was in her car and headed uptown the midday traffic was a nightmare. At a standstill for the third time in twenty minutes, she flipped open her phone, growling when it beeped back at her that her call to Elliot could not be completed. Frustrated, she picked up the envelope she had tossed onto the passenger seat, breaking open the seal to pull out a dozen digital prints of Zoey's head wound. She hissed at the ragged L-shaped laceration, flipping through the pictures quickly before slipping them back into the envelope and sliding it under her seat for safekeeping.
She could hear the wind blowing hard outside, the low hum it made against the doors setting her teeth on edge as her front windshield blurred from a sudden downpour of rain. With a frown, Olivia leaned forward to look up at the nearly black sky, shaking her head as the water turned to ice almost immediately in the freezing winter wind.
Flipping on her light and sirens, she began to edge her way through the rows of cars all around her, weaving into each opening that presented itself until she was close enough to pull into a loading zone and walk.
It was even more miserable outside than it had looked and Olivia pulled her collar up quickly, but not before a freezing crust of ice dropped down her neck, making her teeth chatter as her breath plumed white in front of her. "Perfect." She grumbled.
When she finally arrived at the entrance to the 116th Street station, Fin was waiting for her outside. His eyebrows shot up as he took in her appearance.
"Damn, Liv… you coulda taken a few minutes to comb your hair…"
Olivia shot him a dark look as she followed him down the stairs. "Don't start."
"What?" He said innocently. "You better get your grin on now, 'cause this one ain't right."
"Do we know who he is?"
Fin looked at her blankly. "He…who?"
"Ain't no he." They wound their way through the myriad of police personnel that were scouring every inch of the station for evidence.
"Wait…" She grabbed him by the arm. "Elliot said… on the phone, he said that it was a businessman."
Fin nodded in understanding. "Yeah, he said his phone took a dump on him. Between the wind and the trains it's amazing he got a call out at all." He nodded towards the bathroom in front of them. "Ain't no he…" His face darkened. "And it ain't right, either."
Olivia looked at him, the dread she was feeling multiplying when his eyes slid away from hers to stare at the ground. "Just how…'not right' are we talking here?"
Fin shook his head. "See for yourself."
Sighing, she pulled on gloves and booties; blinking as she stepped into the bathroom, her eyes trying to adjust to the over-brightness of the lamps set up around its perimeter. The lamps were absolutely necessary for evidence collection in areas devoid of any kind of natural light, but they also never failed to set the blood pounding behind her eyes and she knew that an hour spent in this room would leave her with a headache guaranteed to make her miserable for the rest of the day.
"Jesus!" Olivia's mouth dropped open as she took in the condition of the restroom.
There was blood everywhere.
Long, ragged smears of it were painted across the walls, while thick hand shaped smudges gripped the edges of every sink. The tile was a mess of swirling patterns and foot prints leading from the door to a jagged lake-shaped mass of darkened crimson that radiated outwards from the body lying crumpled in the middle of the restroom floor.
A very female body.
Olivia moved closer, crouching down next to Elliot who was staring at the vic with his lips pursed. On the other side of them, the ME was already busy with her case open, jotting down notes on her clipboard as a half a dozen forensic techs stepped carefully around the blood to dust and lift anything they could find.
The woman was lying on her back; arms stretch out to her sides with her eyes wide open and staring up at the blinking fluorescents overhead. She was wearing a long, black jacket with wide, shiny lapels and a well pressed pair of grey striped suit pants. Beneath the jacket, her once white shift was cut to reveal the gaping wound in her chest.
One the floor next to the body was a black handled butcher knife, the blade thick with dried blood.
"What the hell, Elliot?" She glanced towards the back of the restroom where the stalls were located. The floor that far back was still pristine.
Well, as pristine as any floor in a New York City subway.
"No idea." He stood up, his eyes never losing contact with the body.
"What do we have so far?"
"A lot of shit that doesn't make sense."
"Feel like sharing?"
Elliot nodded to the ME. "Go ahead, Doc."
Melinda Warner looked up with a sigh. "We've got a white female, approximately one hundred and fifteen pounds; black hair, brown eyes, mid to late thirties. Cause of death is a single stab wound to the heart which severed the pulmonary artery and resulted in massive blood loss." She rubbed her forehead in frustration. "Too much blood loss."
Olivia blinked. "What?"
"There's too much blood. With that kind of damage to the heart, contractions would have ceased almost immediately. Blood loss should have slowed… but it just poured out of her." She shook her head. "Liver temp and muscle rigidity put the time of death at around four thirty this morning..."
"Eight hours? She laid here for eight hours? How the hell is that possible?"
Elliot pointed to the door, where an 'out of service' sign hung on a small hook. "We checked with maintenance. This restroom was in service so the perp had to hang that on his way out. The only reason we found her as soon as we did is because some jackass slipped inside and ended up tripping over the vic." He pointed at the tracks through the blood. "Those are all his, we already matched them to his shoes."
"Who is he?"
Elliot shrugged as he moved to the other side of the body. "Just some sketched out party boy who needed somewhere private to do a couple lines of meth. We already checked him out, he was clubbing with friends all night. He's not the guy."
"Any ID on her?"
He shook his head. "No purse, no wallet. What you see is what we got."
Olivia nodded, leaning down to take a closer look at the victim. She pursed her lips when she saw the tag on the inside of the jacket, looking up at Warner expectantly.
"Balenciaga." The ME's eyebrows shot up.
Elliot looked over her shoulder. "What is that, some kind of disease?"
Both women rolled their eyes.
"No, it's a designer." Olivia mumbled. "An expensive one. Whoever she is, she had money." She ran her eyes over the entire body, her brow furrowing when she reached the arms. "There are no defensive wounds?"
"None!" Melinda snapped her clipboard shut. "No bruises, no cuts, no scratches… not even a broken fingernail. However this happened, it happened quick. She didn't even have time to react."
"Or…" Olivia bit her bottom lip. "Or she knew him… which doesn't fit the Slasher's profile."
"A lot don't fit the profile." Fin growled as he joined them. "Talked to O'Halloran. Those blood swirls by the door? Someone tried to clean up. Used some kind of pre-soaked bleach wipes." He grunted softly. "Gives 'convenient' a whole new meaning. Anyway, they didn't do the whole job but they did enough. Any tracks left in that mess are long gone."
"I'm done here, detectives. Can we move her?" Warner asked.
Elliot looked at Olivia. "Seen enough?"
"Not nearly," She sighed. "But we need to get this up on the board. We need to look at all five of them together. I don't think we're going to like what we find. What about the surveillance tapes?"
"We got the word out." Fin shook his head. "But it's Sunday. Security office is locked up tight. Maintenance is trying to find someone to open it up but as of now, we got no ETA."
"All right." She looked up at Elliot. "You were first on. You call it."
Olivia waited as her partner gave the order to transport the body and instructed the forensics crew to start moving everything they had found to the labs, telling Ryan O'Halloran to collect the knife himself. When he was done, she took him by the arm and pulled him aside.
"I need to talk to you."
"About what?" He frowned.
"Something happened this morning-"
Elliot held up his hand, cutting her off. "Look, Liv… I don't care why you were late. It was your day off and trust me, if I had to choose between Cabot and this shit, I'd take my time too."
"No," She shook her head. "That isn't it…"
"Whatever it is, can it wait?" He rubbed his temple. "We kind of have our hands full right now."
Olivia looked around the bathroom. "Yeah… yeah I guess it can wait."
"Great!" He put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing her arms gently. "We'll talk about it later."
"Yeah." Olivia nodded slowly, watching him walk away. "Later…"
16th Precinct Police Station
One Police Plaza
"Okay, so thrill me."
Olivia looked over her shoulder as Captain Cragen walked out of his office, joining them at the media center where they had set up the glass crime board right next to the multitude of monitors.
"Somehow, I don't think he's gonna be thrilled." Fin mumbled under his breath as he dropped into a chair next to his partner. He turned to glare at the thin, dark haired man. "And just where the hell was you this morning when I was crawling my ass around a dirty subway tunnel?"
"Firearms recertification." John Munch smiled sweetly. "Can't shoot the bad guys unless all the forms are filled out correctly."
"And that takes all morning?"
"It does if you do it right."
"That's enough." Cragen glared at the two of them before turning to nod at Alex as she joined the group, followed by Huang. "Counselor."
"Captain." The blonde walked past the group to take up her usual position leaning against Olivia's desk, crossing her legs at the ankles as she looked at them expectantly. "So… what do you have?" Her eyes connected briefly with Olivia's and then moved away.
"Five female victims." The brunette started with the first picture taped to the board, tapping each one in succession as she moved down the row. "Janet Dixon, Leslie Peterson, Maria Comet, Whitney Mann, and…" Her hand lingered over the last picture. "Jane Doe."
"What's the story with this last one?" Cragen grunted.
Elliot rubbed his jaw. "Found in the bathroom at the 116th Street station. No wallet, no credit cards, no ID."
"None of the other victims were robbed." Olivia pursed her lips. "Their handbags were found within a few feet of the bodies; nothing was missing." She ran a hand across the back of her neck. "We've contacted missing persons but they've got no reports matching her description and there are no hits on her prints so far. We're widening the search to include secondary and professional databases. Hopefully something will hit somewhere."
Cragen nodded. "What else?"
"According to Warner, our Jane Doe was approximately thirty-five to forty years old. Cause of death was a single stab wound to the chest, the perp left the knife."
"Can you show me the first four attack locations?" Huang asked suddenly.
Nodding, Olivia accessed the computer, bringing up each location on a different monitor. "Janet Dixon was the first. She was killed at the 23rd Street Station where the SAE crosses the Canarsie Local. Then there was Leslie Peterson at the 23rd Street Station on the EAE, Maria Comet at Christopher Street Station, and finally Whitney Mann, Spring Street station on The LA Express."
"LA?" Munch squinted at the screen.
"The Lexington Avenue Express?" Olivia rolled her eyes and pointed at the screen. "The green line? Right here! How the hell do you get around this city?"
"The way god intended." He smiled. "I drive."
Olivia shook her head.
"The first four attacks were all south of Central Park." Huang looked at Olivia.
She nodded. "I know."
Cragen looked back and forth between the two of them. "You two wanna clue the rest of us in?"
"Serial offenders… they stay within their comfort zones; areas and timetables that make them feel safe." Huang walked over to the board, studying the pictures and the descriptions taped beneath them. "The first four victims died in roughly the same area, ten or more days apart. But this one," he tapped the last photo. "This attack was uptown. It's too far north and way too soon. The only reason a serial would step that far out of his comfort zone is fear of being caught. No offense, but… there hasn't been enough movement on this case to engender that kind of fear. Also, the first four women were all under thirty, known to frequent local hotspots, their clothes and appearance all similar. This last woman…" He stared at the last picture for several long seconds. "She's beautiful, yes. But she's older, professionally dressed… she's not his type."
Olivia sighed. "There were also no defensive wounds, the only damage to her clothing was done by the knife and, most importantly, she was in the center of the bathroom floor. All four of the others were found in the handicapped stalls."
A lab tech walked into the bull pen, gesturing to Elliot who stepped away to talk to him. She watched as the tech handed her partner a file. Elliot glanced at her before flipping it open to read through it.
"That was the one piece of information we didn't leak to the media." Cragen closed his eyes, bringing up a hand to rub at his temples. "Our hold card." He sighed heavily. "So… you're saying we've got a copycat on our hands."
"I… don't think so." Huang tapped a finger against his lips thoughtfully. "At least, not your typical copycat." He pointed at Jane Doe. "A single thrust to the chest and a victim that didn't see it coming when she was looking right at it. This was personal, disguised to look random. This killer isn't likely to repeat."
"Great." Munch said sarcastically. "One little murder… no harm done."
The psychiatrist shrugged. "I just meant that you probably don't have to worry about a second serial offender." He frowned. "But that also means you're not going to get very far on this until you figure out who she is."
"We just did." Elliot rejoined them, holding up the file. "Her name was Francine Dicopoulos. She was thirty eight years old and she lived on the Upper East Side." He handed Olivia an enlarged copy of the victim's driver's license. "We got two separate hits on her prints."
"From where?" Olivia taped the copy up under the picture of the crime scene.
She turned to look at him in surprise. "Criminal?"
Elliot shook his head. "Social Services and…" His eyebrows rose. "International Financial Affairs."
"So, she was in the Foster Care system?"
"No." His face fell. "She adopted a little girl about two months ago."
"Oh my god…" Olivia placed both hands on the edge of her desk, leaning forward as she hung her head. "What's the other database?"
"I don't know." Elliot shrugged. "They took her prints when she was bonded. Apparently she's some kind of investment banker."
Olivia's head shot up, her eyes widening. "What?"
"Yeah, it says so right-" He held the file up to read from it, blinking in surprise when she snatched it from his hands, going pale as she read the report for herself.
"You okay, Liv?" Fin asked.
Shaking her head, she slowly sank into her chair. "Do you remember earlier…when I told you I needed to talk to you?"
Elliot nodded. "Yeah?"
"Zoey Merrin showed up on my doorstep this morning… covered in blood…"
"The… the bartender from the Wainscott case?"
Olivia nodded. "She had a nasty head wound. Told me she couldn't remember anything but waking up on the subway. I took her to Bellevue to have her checked out."
"Was she raped?" He asked softly.
Elliot looked at the other people crowded around his partner. "Then… I'm sorry to sound cold but… I don't see how it's relevant."
"It's relevant…" Olivia said slowly. "If victim number five was her ex-girlfriend."