Chapter Text
The office building was way too shiny for Olivia’s liking. The hall was small and dull and something about it made Olivia feel trapped. The desk clerk stopped them and even their badges didn’t help them get past a heavy-looking door to the office space.
“Sorry, but they deal with classified information in there, wouldn’t want random people reading anything from their laptops, would we?” The clerk was a young woman, early twenties at the latest. She smiled at them and it almost seemed genuine. “What are you here about anyway?”
Olivia contemplated it for a minute. Would the girl have known the victim? Would she be able to give them any information? She decided to take the bet. “John Clayton, have you seen him leaving last night?”
The clerk, Olivia couldn't quite find a name tag anywhere in the vicinity, seemed to be deep in thought and then slightly raised her hand in an “I got it” gesture.
“Yeah, he was with a lady friend of his. Is something wrong with him?”
Elliot looked at her, then asked. “Late twenties, dark hair, slim build, navy jacket?”
The girl seemed surprised but nodded. “Yeah, that’d be her. Let me see if I can find her sign-in sheet. She asked me to call Clayton down here so I have her information. We’re very thorough here, you know, so no one can come in and steal government secrets or something.” There was a pleased expression on the girl’s face as she rambled. Olivia and Elliot exchanged looks. They didn’t really want to darken the girl’s day by telling her Clayton was dead.
“Here! C. Hoffman. She didn’t give a name, but we don’t really require that most of the time, unless they go inside the office. She left a contact number, you want to write it down? I can’t really give out any information but since you’re with the police and she doesn’t work here, I don’t think that would be a problem,” the girl went on, and both detectives were about to thank her and ask for the number when a man walked out of the door that led to the offices.
He looked over the scene. “What wouldn’t be a problem, Melanie?” His voice was steely, and both detectives immediately got a feeling they wouldn’t be getting the number without a warrant.
“Oh, sir, sorry. These are detectives from Manhattan, they want the phone number of the lady that came in here last night to see John Clayton from the third floor.” The girl’s voice now had a nervous edge to it, not quite fear but certainly discomfort in the presence of the man.
“They’ll be needing a warrant for that,” the man said, looking Olivia and then Elliot in the eyes. “All of the information here is confidential and most is classified. Come back with a subpoena or don’t come back at all.” With that, he turned around and walked back into the offices. The two detectives shared a glance. Did they have cameras in there overlooking the entrance? This was a little creepy, but not exactly surprising. Olivia looked back at the girl who seemed to relax a little in the absence of the man.
“Sorry, guys. You gotta go. But take my card. For any future questions.” The girl put a card onto the counter. Elliot grabbed it mindlessly, and Olivia nodded at the girl.
“Thanks. Have a good day,” she said as they left the building.
“Well that didn’t go well.” They were now out on the street. It wasn’t raining but it might as well have been. The wind was cold and all they wanted was to get back into a heated building. Olivia was getting annoyed with this case. Why did men just have to ruin her day like that? If he just went in a minute later, they’d have all they needed.
And then Elliot’s face changed. He was grinning. Olivia gave him a questioning look. Was he going crazy? Was he about to start laughing hysterically? And then he handed her the card. And on the back of it a phone number was scrambled in wobbly handwriting. She started grinning too. She wanted to go in and hug the girl. Instead she got into the car. They had something to go off of now.
—
Fin managed to trace the phone number to a Claire Hoffman and the two detectives couldn’t have been happier. Having looked up Hoffman’s DMV records and remembering Melanie the desk clerk’s words about a C. Hoffman, they were now absolutely certain they had an ID on their female victim. The question was, why was she targeted? And why was she with Jack Clayton that night?
“Hey, Liv, I got Claire’s workplace. It’s a middleman company for government contractors. Security and stuff. Coincidence that the dead friend worked for the DoD?” Elliot was leaning his back on his chair, looking up to her.
Olivia shrugged. “Let’s find out,” she said, grabbing her coat from her own chair. It was 4 PM, they could still make it before the end of the workday. Thinking of workdays, Olivia remembered they haven’t updated Alex on the ID. She’s going to need to make that call from the car. She tossed the keys to Elliot. “You’re driving. I’ll call Cabot and tell her we have an ID on the vic.”
—
“Cabot,” Alex said into the phone, not even caring to look at the caller ID. She was walking into 1-6 for a lineup on the rape of a 19 year old college student.
“Alex, it’s me,” Alex couldn’t quite hold in the small smile that took over her lips at the sound of Olivia’s voice. She’d missed the woman, having not seen her in what, three days? It was ridiculous, she thought, they were just colleagues. And yet she still felt calmer now, having heard the softness of her voice. “We’ve got an ID on the rape-homicide. Well, the double homicide, the drug-related one, remember?”
Alex chuckled involuntarily. “Not that there’s much to remember, the only thing I know is that it happened. Wanna meet over dinner and fill me in?” She didn’t know where it came from. She really didn’t. But she hadn’t seen Benson in three days and this just felt so natural. She scolded herself for even thinking it, saying it felt like a crime. What if Benson thought she had an ulterior motive? She did, she wanted to see her badly. No, she couldn’t know.
But Olivia sounded so casual with her “Sure, seven at the usual place?” that Alex breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she didn’t really know. Maybe Alex was driving herself crazy over nothing.
“Yeah, I gotta get to a lineup, see you then?” She asked, proud of how casual she sounded. She almost believed herself. Why was she even thinking all of this? Olivia, no, Benson, was just a colleague, barely even a friend. Not seeing her for three days was normal, it was to be expected. She didn’t feel this way about Cragen who actually was a friend or, god forbid, Stabler.
“See you then,” Olivia said and Alex could hear a car door open. They had a case. Yes, this was about a case, not about her, not about them. There wasn’t even a them, they weren’t anything, they weren’t even friends for god’s sake!
Alex walked into the small room reserved for lineups. It was dark as usual and the defendant’s attorney was already there. The victim too. Alex realized she was the last one to show up and muttered a “sorry I’m late, traffic” before approaching the victim and telling her exactly how this was going to go. She didn’t have to think of what to say, the speech was down to muscle memory by that point. As the blinds went up and the victim stared down her attacker, as her eyes widened and as she squeezed Alex’s hand, muttering “it’s four” over and over, Alex couldn’t quite stop thinking about how she needed to make sure to reapply her mascara before going to dinner with Olivia.
—
“When are you finally going to tell her?” Elliot had a smirk on his face as Olivia hung up the phone. He was already out of the car, waiting for her to follow in his steps.
“Tell her what?” Olivia hated every time he brought up her alleged feelings for the ADA. When would he finally understand that they were nothing more than colleagues? In fact, for all Olivia knew, Cabot hated her. Always scrutinizing her every move, looking for the slightest hint of a mistake in the apprehension of a suspect, just being an overall bitch. Alexandra Cabot hated Olivia Benson, that much was clear to the latter.
“That you’re in love with her obviously. Look, the only ones that don’t know you two’ve got the hots for each other are you two. I say you get over it and get laid.” Elliot had his usual sarcastic tone and Olivia wanted to roll her eyes. But the idea of someone seeing something that might point to Alex having feelings for her… No, Olivia said to herself, Alexandra Cabot hates Olivia Benson, that's how it’s always been, that’s how it’ill always be.
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve got a notification to make and potential suspects to interview, don’t pick my brain about my non-existent love life.” Olivia made her way to the building door and pushed it open. As she did so, she was greeted by a much more welcoming reception desk than that in the DoD office. There was even a lollipop jar on the desk.
The woman behind the counter seemed to be in her mid-twenties. A perfect customer service smile crossed her face as she noticed the two visitors and it didn’t falter for a second when she saw their badges. “How can I help you, detectives?”
Olivia looked around while Elliot approached the desk. “We’re here about Claire Hoffman, can we talk to her supervisor?” Olivia missed it, studying the walls covered in “Safety first” posters and enlistment promotions, but the woman’s smile faltered for a split second. Elliot saw the flicker of anxiety in her eyes before it was gone a second later.
“Of course, detective. I’m going to need your name and badge number, you can write them down here, and I will call Mr. Richardson for you.” The woman handed Elliot a sign-in form, and Olivia, who by that point was back by the desk, wondered if this was common practice among all government contractors or just those whose workers were killed often enough. She scolded herself for the joke. This wasn't a laughing matter. This was murder and if the victim’s coworkers were involved, they needed to find out who and why. Did she have a relationship with someone? Was she in conflict with her boss? Was she in debt?
Elliot filled out the form for the both of them, and it really shouldn’t surprise her at this point that he knows her badge number by heart. Yet it still makes a small smile creep up heer face. Alexandra Cabot might hate Olivia Benson, but Elliot Stabler will always have a spare shoulder to cry on.
“Detectives? My name is Michael Richardson, you are here about Claire? Is she alright?” The man was somewhat tall, blonde and while not exactly handsome, he was quite good looking. Olivia shook his hand. The perfectly tailored gray suit must’ve cost thousands of dollars, she thought. She refused to let herself think about how it reminded her of Alex.
“Detective Benson, this is my partner Detective Stabler. Claire Hoffman was found dead last night. Do you think you could answer a few questions about her day?” She saw the man’s eyes squint slightly, looking at her closely, almost as if looking for something in her expression. Did he have something to hide?
“Anything we can do to help. Follow me.” He led them through a door and into an elevator.
The whole place looked polished. Olivia thought of the precinct, its worn out wallpaper, sticky floors, and of how it must feel working in such a shiny place. And then the elevator dinged and the doors opened and they were met with a long hallway that looked like it came straight out of a horror movie. Olivia didn’t know why, but what had just felt like a shiny and inviting place now looked almost uncanny. The hallway seemed endless and every door looked just like the other. It was like looking into an abyss. The lights were dimmed and the tile on the floor made the place feel like a freshly abandoned hospital. Just as polished, just as empty. Just as soulless. Olivia took back the comparison to the precinct. She would choose the sticky floors and the worn out wallpaper over this almost scarily perfect hallway.
“Come on in,” Richardson said, opening one of the doors. Inside was a fairly large office with full-height windows and bookshelves lining up the walls. The man’s desk was pristine, with only a computer, a notebook and a coffee mug on it. No pictures, no calendar, absolutely nothing personal. This just felt wrong to Olivia, who was used to the cluttered desks at the precinct. They always had pictures of their families or each other, piles of notes, discarded coffee cups from the nearest café.
“Thank you for talking to us, Mr. Richardson. How exactly are you connected to Ms. Hoffman?” Elliot went straight to business, giving Olivia the opportunity to study the man and his space a little closer. They both sat down across the desk from Richardson and she watched him cross his arms. Defensive or just getting comfortable?
“I was her supervisor. Claire’s official title was International Contractor Liaison. She worked with the companies who provide security abroad on the DoD’s contracts.” Richardson spoke confidently, without so much as a hint of nervousness. He was so casual. But something was rubbing Olivia the wrong way and she couldn’t quite place it just yet.
“And you didn’t have a relationship outside of work?” Elliot’s questions were measured to carry a certain amount of sarcasm and normally Olivia would have grinned slightly at the implication, but something in her gut was telling her he was wrong. This wasn’t the behavior of a man who just found out his lover died.
“No, we didn’t get along all that well. She was, how do I put it right, quite greedy, always looking for a way, a scheme, a trick, to make more money. Didn’t quite have the moral compass I would like in a partner. Or the looks for that matter, I’m more into blondes.” He was cocky. Olivia never liked that, but in this one it had an undertone she couldn’t quite place. He looked calm, like he had nothing to hide, but there was something about him that just set off the alarm bells in her head.
“We were told she left work early yesterday. Any particular reason?” Elliot was done playing games, the man’s behavior annoyed him just as much as it did Olivia. He couldn’t quite go all the way, but there was a hint of disdain in his voice.
“Not that I know of. Maybe she had a family emergency? I’m sorry to have wasted your time, but I have an office to run, you’ll have to excuse me. You can grab a lollipop on the way out.”
Olivia shared a look with Elliot. She still couldn’t quite place what felt off about the guy, but something was wrong with him. They went back to the elevator and rode down to the hall. The receptionist looked at them with something close to pity.
Olivia suddenly had an idea and decided to give it a try. What did she have to lose? “Hey, did Claire have any visitors yesterday? Or did she give a reason as to why she left early?”
The receptionist, Ariel, her name tag said, looked Olivia in the eyes. “I’m sorry. You should get a warrant for that. You should.” The conviction in her voice as she said the last phrase sent Olivia’s mind reeling. What does she mean they should? What was going on in Claire Hoffman’s life?