Make the Bodies Drop [SVU; Elliot/Olivia]
TITLE: Make the Bodies Drop
CHAPTER 5
FANDOM: Law & Order: SVU
PAIRING: Elliot/Olivia
SPOILERS: Season seven-ish, pre-trilogy
RATING: R for adult themes
SUMMARY:
*****
Somewhere between midnight and one a.m., the club was full. Olivia had taken to popping an aspirin every few hours to rid herself of the overwhelming headache she was getting from the cigarette smoke, and stopped by Elliot's (Jack's, she had to keep telling herself) table frequently to get a neck rub. She still had yet to get anything of substance out of any of the other dancers -- so far she'd met a Rainy (Sara), Charisma (Natalie), a Jasmine (Jennifer), an April and a Marissa (their real names). All five girls were just as tight-lipped as Krystal had been.
"Ya playin' nice with the other girls, babe?" 'Jack' teased 'Liz' as she sauntered over to his booth.
She slid into the booth beside him, ignoring the almost painful way the leather stuck to her thighs, and let him drop his arm around her shoulders. "Yeah," she sighed, and closed her eyes, tipping her head forward when Elliot started to rub her neck again.
Carl, who'd been chatting with him, smiled. "Y'know, I never say this kinda stuff, but... you and Liz make a real cute couple. Kinda reminds me of me and my ex-girlfriend before she dumped me."
"Aww, ya got a broken heart Carl?" Olivia cooed, opening her eyes to smile. She felt Elliot's smile on her as she did this, and it kept her own in place.
Carl chuckled. "Yeah, guess you could say that. But that's not somethin' I like talkin' about."
Olivia smiled and patted Carl's hand lightly, sharing a look with Elliot before rising to her feet. "Well, I should get back to my tables and let you boys talk."
"Damn straight baby girl, gotta give those payin' customers some eye-candy," Elliot grinned, and reached out to smack her ass playfully as she walked away.
Over her shoulder, she glared facetiously, unable to hide the smirk. "You're gonna get it later."
Elliot just laughed -- that gorgeous laugh that took away all her sense -- and raised his glass in a fake toast. "Here's hopin'!"
As she walked away, Olivia muttered to herself (the molar mic), "I'm not kidding, Stabler. I am going to kick your ass."
She heard another chuckle in her ear and then he was chatting with Carl again. Olivia strolled up to Munch's table and grabbed his now-empty scotch glass, holding it up. "Want another one, sugar?"
"Sure."
She smiled and winked, heading back to the bar. On the way, she murmured into the molar mic, "Fin, you still there?"
"I'm here, 'Livia. Ain't seein' nothing but the same filth. And by that I mean John."
She chuckled and heard Munch's voice in her ear while she ordered another scotch from Tony. "Y'know, I think you and I are needing another session with our marriage counselor."
"Who?" Fin shot back, "Huang?"
Olivia smiled her thank-you at Tony when he gave her the new scotch, then she headed back to Munch's table. Under her breath, she chided them, "Boys, all marital disputes have to be handled after-hours."
"He has no respect for me, Liv," Munch sighed, giving her a wry grin when she brought the drink back to him.
She laughed. "Well, if it's any consolation, I think you could do better."
"Hey!"
They both grinned at the indignance in Fin's tone. Then, Olivia took a look around the club, watched a few of the dancers swinging around the poles. "See anything yet?"
"No." Munch scrubbed a hand over his face and took a drink. "I'm starting to think this is a dead-end. The dancers won't talk to you, I'm not gettin' anything out of anybody, Fin's not seeing anyone suspicious and Elliot's gettin' nowhere with Carl."
"Wouldn't say that," Elliot's voice piped back in.
Olivia straightened up at the sound of his voice and smiled at Munch, gesturing that she had another customer wanting her attention before she headed off. Elliot watched her go, keeping an eye out for Carl returning as he told everyone, "Carl's ex-girlfriend? One who dumped 'im? She's one of the dancers."
Olivia's eyes scanned the club, settling on each of the dancers in turn before she headed back to the bar with her next drink order, murmuring, "Which one?"
"Marissa."
"She's nineteen!" Olivia hissed before bringing a couple beers back to her customers.
Fin's low whistle hit her ear. "Just a baby."
"Yeah," Elliot chimed in. "And Carl's thirty-three."
The quartet were silent, going about their individual tasks for a few moments before Munch piped up, "Am I the only one who doesn't see anything fishy about an older guy wanting a younger girl?"
"Y'know, I spotted a few bruises on Marissa's legs and arms while we were getting ready. She said she bruises from doing the pole too much, and I guess I didn't think anything more of it at the time." Olivia set her tray on the bar and headed toward the back of the club, toward the locker room. "I think I'll check out her locker."
"Liv, what're you lookin' for?"
"Anything." Her body naturally stepped to the rhythm of the pounding bass flowing through the sound system - some sort of Limp Bizkit song that got quieter and quieter the further back she walked. "I'm tired of feeling like a sitting duck."
Pressing her fingertips to the heavy wooden door, Olivia pushed it open a crack and peeked inside, looking for any of the dancers. Seeing no one, she slipped into the locker room and shut the door behind her, twisting the lock. Her stiletto shoes were much louder on the tile than she would've liked, but she wasn't about to walk around barefoot.
Olivia glanced up briefly as a new song started over the sound system and the men out front started hooting and hollering. The song was muffled and not easy to place, though she noted it had a strange, heavy electric guitar rhythm. Almost disjointed. Whatever it was and whoever was dancing, the customers were enjoying it. She sighed to herself and tried not to think about the fact that tomorrow night she'd be up on that stage dealing with that slobbering, howling pack of werewolves.
Marissa's locker was easy to spot - each of the dancers decorated their own name plates for the lockers, and Marissa's was adorned with glitter and flowers. Each locker had a built-in combination lock, but luckily Marissa's had been left half-open -- only the top half of the door had sealed shut while the rest remained slightly off-kilter. It only took a bit of jarring on Olivia's part before it came open, slamming back against the other lockers with a metallic 'clang.'
"Liv?" Elliot's voice sounded in her ear. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," she sighed. "Just had some trouble with the locker." She peered inside, going for the top shelf first. "Alright, let's see." She pulled down a bottle of lotion, "Body cream..." followed by a hairbrush and a binder, "hair accessories..." and then a small tube of ointment, "...and some anti-fungal medication."
"Let's hope it's to help her feet after those long hours in high heels," Munch quipped.
Olivia chuckled while she heard Fin join in. "Yeah, or else there's gonna be some real disppointed customers."
"She's got some pictures -- her and a brunette." Olivia flipped the picture over, her brow creased as she read the caption aloud. "'Me and Sum, Cozumel '04.' She looks young."
"She is young," Elliot reminded her. Then, almost to himself, he grumbled, "What the hell is this song? I can't take it anymore. The rhythm's all weird."
"Bartender says it's Rage Against the Machine," Munch replied.
As the guys continued to talk over the molar mics and earpieces, Olivia continued rooting through the locker. The bottom shelf yielded nothing but another pair of stilettos and a pair of Keds sneakers. A small duffel bag dangled from the hook against the back wall, so she reached for the zipper. Inside she found a pair of jeans, a tanktop and a sweater - nothing out of the ordinary. "I think we're at yet another dead end, gentlemen," she sighed as she opened the front pocket. When her fingers touched a piece of card stock, she paused. "On second thought..."
It was a business card, lightly embossed -- high-end stock. Olivia raised an eyebrow appreciatively and read the contents aloud for the others' benefit. "Stephanie Chisolm, Attorney at Law." When she skimmed the bottom line, both eyebrows went up. "She specializes in domestic violence."
Before anyone could fully process that newest bit of information, a muffled scream sounded. Olivia's head snapped up and she stuffed the business card in her top, running for the door as best she could in her shoes. "El--!"
"Heard it! I'm coming." Elliot sounded as if he was already running, and Munch lowly informed her, "I'll call for backup."
Olivia pulled open the locker room door and sprinted down the hall, stopping when she nearly crashed into one of the other dancers -- Marissa. "Marissa? Honey, what's wrong?"
Marissa, hanging on to the customer hiding behind her, gestured with a slack jaw into the darkened private room, her eyes wide. Olivia followed her gaze and gasped at what she saw -- another dancer, though she couldn't tell who, lying crumpled and bloodied on the floor. Elliot appeared in the doorway seconds later and called for her in Jack's Brooklyn accent. "Liz! Honey, y'alright?"
"I'm fine," she assured him, trying with every fiber of herself not to run over and check for a pulse - not to run over and start looking for evidence. She was not a cop here. "It's... it's..."
"April!" Marissa sobbed from somewhere behind her, and Carl had joined them in the doorway, wrapping a protective arm around Marissa.
Elliot and Olivia shared a look, then, as the sound of cop cars and an ambulance filled the air.
*****
April was still alive, luckily, but badly beaten. The EMTs rushed her to the hospital immediately. Munch, thankfully, must have informed them of their covers ahead of time; each of the EMTs who they'd run into on the job a few times never even gave them a second look. And the officers called to the scene made no acknowledgement that they knew Elliot or Olivia -- just took their statements as normal eyewitnesses.
When they were through, Elliot placed his hand on Olivia's stomach, drawing her back against him. His lips just barely touched the shell of her ear. "Wanna head to the hospital? Check up on April?"
Olivia nodded, still slightly in shock over the abrupt turn of events, and let her partner lead her out to hail a cab. They spoke in hushed tones along the way, not wanting to blow their cover even if it would've been just to a cab driver. Elliot was having a hard enough time as it was keeping his badge hidden from the cabbie -- he wanted to flash it every time the guy leered at Olivia through the rearview mirror.
"Did you see anything?" he asked her quietly, their heads ducked close together.
"You know I didn't. You heard me giving my statement."
"Yeah. I just... wasn't sure if you were covering and you really did see something, or... not."
"Not, El. I heard the scream and ran out to see what it was."
"Y'see Carl with Marissa?"
Olivia nodded. "She flinched when he touched her. Think he's the reason she's got a domestic violence lawyer's business card in her bag?"
"Maybe. But she was pretty shaken up too. I mean... for all intents and purposes, that was one of her friends lying on the floor."
Olivia sighed to herself, hating it when Elliot played to the opposite side of things rather than going the obvious route. "Elliot, you heard Carl. Marissa dumped him. He had to have been beating on her."
"Yeah and how many domestic abuse cases have we seen where the woman just suddenly becomes empowered and leaves the guy beating her up behind? Come on, Liv."
"Elliot--"
"Here we are," their driver interrupted before the argument could get any more heated. "Saint Vincent's." The leering cabbie pulled over and grinned at Olivia.
Elliot rolled his eyes and threw just enough money at him before pulling Olivia out of the cab and glaring at the driver before he took off. "Pig," he grumbled.
"Well I'm not exactly dressed like a school marm," Olivia chided him, touching his arm gently to calm his ire.
"Nevertheless." Elliot left it at that, knowing Olivia would understand.
And she did. Elliot had a tendency to be an old-fashioned guy at times. As in tune as he was with women's rights, he was still staunch and steadfast in his belief that there were certain ways a man should and should not talk to or treat a woman. He was a gentleman; part of a dying breed. And as liberated as Olivia was, she appreciated every bit of that quality. So she gave him a small smile as they made their way into the emergency room, up to the triage desk.
"Can I help you?"
Olivia discreetly fished her badge out of her coat pocket. "We're looking for a dancer that was just brought in - April?" She realized belatedly she had no idea what April's last name was.
"Trauma 3."
Luckily, none of the other dancers had come to the hospital -- it was just Elliot, Olivia, and the hospital staff nearby. When Olivia spotted a doctor leaving the trauma room, she tapped Elliot's arm and nodded in the doctor's direction.
Elliot, reading her body language, nodded and stopped the trauma doc. "Excuse me, is that the dancer brought in from the club on 7th?"
"No visitors allowed except family," came the crisp, oft-uttered monotone.
"Sorry," Elliot feigned a smile, "let me rephrase that." He flashed his badge. "Detective Stabler..." He nodded in Olivia's direction, "and this is my partner, Detective Benson. We're working undercover on the assaults at the Pink Flamingo. What can you tell me about April?"
The doctor never looked up from her chart, her lips pursed together stoically. "Just finished checking her over. She's got a couple of cracked ribs, a fractured clavicle, lots of cuts and bruises"
"Signs of sexual assault?" Olivia piped up, taking a couple steps closer to her partner.
At this question, the doctor finally looked up. "She's got extensive bruising on her hips and thighs. I won't know more until we get the kit back, but... I think she's been raped." With that, the doctor closed her chart and hurried off down the corridor.
Elliot and Olivia watched her go before turning to look at each other. "Son of a bitch," Elliot murmured.
Olivia read his eyes. "He's escalating."
TBC
{x-posted to eoshippers and olivia_elliot}
CHAPTER 5
FANDOM: Law & Order: SVU
PAIRING: Elliot/Olivia
SPOILERS: Season seven-ish, pre-trilogy
RATING: R for adult themes
SUMMARY:
*****
Somewhere between midnight and one a.m., the club was full. Olivia had taken to popping an aspirin every few hours to rid herself of the overwhelming headache she was getting from the cigarette smoke, and stopped by Elliot's (Jack's, she had to keep telling herself) table frequently to get a neck rub. She still had yet to get anything of substance out of any of the other dancers -- so far she'd met a Rainy (Sara), Charisma (Natalie), a Jasmine (Jennifer), an April and a Marissa (their real names). All five girls were just as tight-lipped as Krystal had been.
"Ya playin' nice with the other girls, babe?" 'Jack' teased 'Liz' as she sauntered over to his booth.
She slid into the booth beside him, ignoring the almost painful way the leather stuck to her thighs, and let him drop his arm around her shoulders. "Yeah," she sighed, and closed her eyes, tipping her head forward when Elliot started to rub her neck again.
Carl, who'd been chatting with him, smiled. "Y'know, I never say this kinda stuff, but... you and Liz make a real cute couple. Kinda reminds me of me and my ex-girlfriend before she dumped me."
"Aww, ya got a broken heart Carl?" Olivia cooed, opening her eyes to smile. She felt Elliot's smile on her as she did this, and it kept her own in place.
Carl chuckled. "Yeah, guess you could say that. But that's not somethin' I like talkin' about."
Olivia smiled and patted Carl's hand lightly, sharing a look with Elliot before rising to her feet. "Well, I should get back to my tables and let you boys talk."
"Damn straight baby girl, gotta give those payin' customers some eye-candy," Elliot grinned, and reached out to smack her ass playfully as she walked away.
Over her shoulder, she glared facetiously, unable to hide the smirk. "You're gonna get it later."
Elliot just laughed -- that gorgeous laugh that took away all her sense -- and raised his glass in a fake toast. "Here's hopin'!"
As she walked away, Olivia muttered to herself (the molar mic), "I'm not kidding, Stabler. I am going to kick your ass."
She heard another chuckle in her ear and then he was chatting with Carl again. Olivia strolled up to Munch's table and grabbed his now-empty scotch glass, holding it up. "Want another one, sugar?"
"Sure."
She smiled and winked, heading back to the bar. On the way, she murmured into the molar mic, "Fin, you still there?"
"I'm here, 'Livia. Ain't seein' nothing but the same filth. And by that I mean John."
She chuckled and heard Munch's voice in her ear while she ordered another scotch from Tony. "Y'know, I think you and I are needing another session with our marriage counselor."
"Who?" Fin shot back, "Huang?"
Olivia smiled her thank-you at Tony when he gave her the new scotch, then she headed back to Munch's table. Under her breath, she chided them, "Boys, all marital disputes have to be handled after-hours."
"He has no respect for me, Liv," Munch sighed, giving her a wry grin when she brought the drink back to him.
She laughed. "Well, if it's any consolation, I think you could do better."
"Hey!"
They both grinned at the indignance in Fin's tone. Then, Olivia took a look around the club, watched a few of the dancers swinging around the poles. "See anything yet?"
"No." Munch scrubbed a hand over his face and took a drink. "I'm starting to think this is a dead-end. The dancers won't talk to you, I'm not gettin' anything out of anybody, Fin's not seeing anyone suspicious and Elliot's gettin' nowhere with Carl."
"Wouldn't say that," Elliot's voice piped back in.
Olivia straightened up at the sound of his voice and smiled at Munch, gesturing that she had another customer wanting her attention before she headed off. Elliot watched her go, keeping an eye out for Carl returning as he told everyone, "Carl's ex-girlfriend? One who dumped 'im? She's one of the dancers."
Olivia's eyes scanned the club, settling on each of the dancers in turn before she headed back to the bar with her next drink order, murmuring, "Which one?"
"Marissa."
"She's nineteen!" Olivia hissed before bringing a couple beers back to her customers.
Fin's low whistle hit her ear. "Just a baby."
"Yeah," Elliot chimed in. "And Carl's thirty-three."
The quartet were silent, going about their individual tasks for a few moments before Munch piped up, "Am I the only one who doesn't see anything fishy about an older guy wanting a younger girl?"
"Y'know, I spotted a few bruises on Marissa's legs and arms while we were getting ready. She said she bruises from doing the pole too much, and I guess I didn't think anything more of it at the time." Olivia set her tray on the bar and headed toward the back of the club, toward the locker room. "I think I'll check out her locker."
"Liv, what're you lookin' for?"
"Anything." Her body naturally stepped to the rhythm of the pounding bass flowing through the sound system - some sort of Limp Bizkit song that got quieter and quieter the further back she walked. "I'm tired of feeling like a sitting duck."
Pressing her fingertips to the heavy wooden door, Olivia pushed it open a crack and peeked inside, looking for any of the dancers. Seeing no one, she slipped into the locker room and shut the door behind her, twisting the lock. Her stiletto shoes were much louder on the tile than she would've liked, but she wasn't about to walk around barefoot.
Olivia glanced up briefly as a new song started over the sound system and the men out front started hooting and hollering. The song was muffled and not easy to place, though she noted it had a strange, heavy electric guitar rhythm. Almost disjointed. Whatever it was and whoever was dancing, the customers were enjoying it. She sighed to herself and tried not to think about the fact that tomorrow night she'd be up on that stage dealing with that slobbering, howling pack of werewolves.
Marissa's locker was easy to spot - each of the dancers decorated their own name plates for the lockers, and Marissa's was adorned with glitter and flowers. Each locker had a built-in combination lock, but luckily Marissa's had been left half-open -- only the top half of the door had sealed shut while the rest remained slightly off-kilter. It only took a bit of jarring on Olivia's part before it came open, slamming back against the other lockers with a metallic 'clang.'
"Liv?" Elliot's voice sounded in her ear. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," she sighed. "Just had some trouble with the locker." She peered inside, going for the top shelf first. "Alright, let's see." She pulled down a bottle of lotion, "Body cream..." followed by a hairbrush and a binder, "hair accessories..." and then a small tube of ointment, "...and some anti-fungal medication."
"Let's hope it's to help her feet after those long hours in high heels," Munch quipped.
Olivia chuckled while she heard Fin join in. "Yeah, or else there's gonna be some real disppointed customers."
"She's got some pictures -- her and a brunette." Olivia flipped the picture over, her brow creased as she read the caption aloud. "'Me and Sum, Cozumel '04.' She looks young."
"She is young," Elliot reminded her. Then, almost to himself, he grumbled, "What the hell is this song? I can't take it anymore. The rhythm's all weird."
"Bartender says it's Rage Against the Machine," Munch replied.
As the guys continued to talk over the molar mics and earpieces, Olivia continued rooting through the locker. The bottom shelf yielded nothing but another pair of stilettos and a pair of Keds sneakers. A small duffel bag dangled from the hook against the back wall, so she reached for the zipper. Inside she found a pair of jeans, a tanktop and a sweater - nothing out of the ordinary. "I think we're at yet another dead end, gentlemen," she sighed as she opened the front pocket. When her fingers touched a piece of card stock, she paused. "On second thought..."
It was a business card, lightly embossed -- high-end stock. Olivia raised an eyebrow appreciatively and read the contents aloud for the others' benefit. "Stephanie Chisolm, Attorney at Law." When she skimmed the bottom line, both eyebrows went up. "She specializes in domestic violence."
Before anyone could fully process that newest bit of information, a muffled scream sounded. Olivia's head snapped up and she stuffed the business card in her top, running for the door as best she could in her shoes. "El--!"
"Heard it! I'm coming." Elliot sounded as if he was already running, and Munch lowly informed her, "I'll call for backup."
Olivia pulled open the locker room door and sprinted down the hall, stopping when she nearly crashed into one of the other dancers -- Marissa. "Marissa? Honey, what's wrong?"
Marissa, hanging on to the customer hiding behind her, gestured with a slack jaw into the darkened private room, her eyes wide. Olivia followed her gaze and gasped at what she saw -- another dancer, though she couldn't tell who, lying crumpled and bloodied on the floor. Elliot appeared in the doorway seconds later and called for her in Jack's Brooklyn accent. "Liz! Honey, y'alright?"
"I'm fine," she assured him, trying with every fiber of herself not to run over and check for a pulse - not to run over and start looking for evidence. She was not a cop here. "It's... it's..."
"April!" Marissa sobbed from somewhere behind her, and Carl had joined them in the doorway, wrapping a protective arm around Marissa.
Elliot and Olivia shared a look, then, as the sound of cop cars and an ambulance filled the air.
*****
April was still alive, luckily, but badly beaten. The EMTs rushed her to the hospital immediately. Munch, thankfully, must have informed them of their covers ahead of time; each of the EMTs who they'd run into on the job a few times never even gave them a second look. And the officers called to the scene made no acknowledgement that they knew Elliot or Olivia -- just took their statements as normal eyewitnesses.
When they were through, Elliot placed his hand on Olivia's stomach, drawing her back against him. His lips just barely touched the shell of her ear. "Wanna head to the hospital? Check up on April?"
Olivia nodded, still slightly in shock over the abrupt turn of events, and let her partner lead her out to hail a cab. They spoke in hushed tones along the way, not wanting to blow their cover even if it would've been just to a cab driver. Elliot was having a hard enough time as it was keeping his badge hidden from the cabbie -- he wanted to flash it every time the guy leered at Olivia through the rearview mirror.
"Did you see anything?" he asked her quietly, their heads ducked close together.
"You know I didn't. You heard me giving my statement."
"Yeah. I just... wasn't sure if you were covering and you really did see something, or... not."
"Not, El. I heard the scream and ran out to see what it was."
"Y'see Carl with Marissa?"
Olivia nodded. "She flinched when he touched her. Think he's the reason she's got a domestic violence lawyer's business card in her bag?"
"Maybe. But she was pretty shaken up too. I mean... for all intents and purposes, that was one of her friends lying on the floor."
Olivia sighed to herself, hating it when Elliot played to the opposite side of things rather than going the obvious route. "Elliot, you heard Carl. Marissa dumped him. He had to have been beating on her."
"Yeah and how many domestic abuse cases have we seen where the woman just suddenly becomes empowered and leaves the guy beating her up behind? Come on, Liv."
"Elliot--"
"Here we are," their driver interrupted before the argument could get any more heated. "Saint Vincent's." The leering cabbie pulled over and grinned at Olivia.
Elliot rolled his eyes and threw just enough money at him before pulling Olivia out of the cab and glaring at the driver before he took off. "Pig," he grumbled.
"Well I'm not exactly dressed like a school marm," Olivia chided him, touching his arm gently to calm his ire.
"Nevertheless." Elliot left it at that, knowing Olivia would understand.
And she did. Elliot had a tendency to be an old-fashioned guy at times. As in tune as he was with women's rights, he was still staunch and steadfast in his belief that there were certain ways a man should and should not talk to or treat a woman. He was a gentleman; part of a dying breed. And as liberated as Olivia was, she appreciated every bit of that quality. So she gave him a small smile as they made their way into the emergency room, up to the triage desk.
"Can I help you?"
Olivia discreetly fished her badge out of her coat pocket. "We're looking for a dancer that was just brought in - April?" She realized belatedly she had no idea what April's last name was.
"Trauma 3."
Luckily, none of the other dancers had come to the hospital -- it was just Elliot, Olivia, and the hospital staff nearby. When Olivia spotted a doctor leaving the trauma room, she tapped Elliot's arm and nodded in the doctor's direction.
Elliot, reading her body language, nodded and stopped the trauma doc. "Excuse me, is that the dancer brought in from the club on 7th?"
"No visitors allowed except family," came the crisp, oft-uttered monotone.
"Sorry," Elliot feigned a smile, "let me rephrase that." He flashed his badge. "Detective Stabler..." He nodded in Olivia's direction, "and this is my partner, Detective Benson. We're working undercover on the assaults at the Pink Flamingo. What can you tell me about April?"
The doctor never looked up from her chart, her lips pursed together stoically. "Just finished checking her over. She's got a couple of cracked ribs, a fractured clavicle, lots of cuts and bruises"
"Signs of sexual assault?" Olivia piped up, taking a couple steps closer to her partner.
At this question, the doctor finally looked up. "She's got extensive bruising on her hips and thighs. I won't know more until we get the kit back, but... I think she's been raped." With that, the doctor closed her chart and hurried off down the corridor.
Elliot and Olivia watched her go before turning to look at each other. "Son of a bitch," Elliot murmured.
Olivia read his eyes. "He's escalating."
TBC
{x-posted to eoshippers and olivia_elliot}