Chapter Text
“Rita,” Liv said when the defense attorney walked into the office unannounced. Rita closed the door behind herself, and Liv added, “Come on in.”
Rita gave her a look that said she didn’t have time for the sarcasm. “If anybody asks, this is nothing more than a friendly visit,” she said without preamble, taking a seat across the desk from Liv.
Liv took off her glasses and set them on the desk, leaning back in her chair. “And the real reason?”
“Have you heard from Barba?”
Liv hesitated. “We’re not exactly on speaking—”
“Get over it,” Rita cut in sharply. Liv smiled without humor, but before she could answer Rita continued: “He needs your help.” She paused. “I need your help.”
Liv straightened, cold unease blossoming in her stomach. “What happened?”
“He’s in Rikers and to be honest, I don’t know if I can get him out. They set bail at one million, no bondsman wants to touch him, and by the time he gets to trial—”
“Wait, wait,” Liv cut in, “Rita. What the fuck happened?”
“He’s being held on charges of kidnapping, battery, and rape. Senator Sherman’s wife Abigail claims Barba handcuffed her to a radiator for two days, repeatedly raping and beating her, and that she finally escaped by breaking off a piece of the radiator. Rape kit shows consistent trauma and injuries, no DNA. She was interviewed by Brooklyn SVU and accused Barba by name before also picking him out of a lineup. I don’t need to tell you what connections the senator has any more than I need to tell you what’s going to happen to Barba in Rikers. But he was arrested and arraigned in record time, thrown in Rikers before the blood was even dry.”
Liv couldn’t speak for long moments. Her scalp was prickling and her entire body had gone cold as Rita laid out the facts. While the two women stared at each other across the desk, Liv could see that Rita wasn’t feeling nearly as calm as she appeared, either.
“He would never,” Liv finally managed through numb lips.
“Of course not,” Rita agreed brusquely, “but that’s not the point. Brooklyn SVU isn’t interested in looking for other suspects, Senator Sherman is putting all his weight into getting Barba locked away for the rest of his life, and Abigail Sherman is perfectly credible.”
“Does he have ideas of who might be framing him?” Liv waited, but when Rita didn’t answer, she asked, “What?”
“You and I both know that Rafael Barba has more fire for justice than anyone, and he’s got fight, but right now…Liv,” Rita said, her mask of nonchalance slipping completely for a moment, “it’s like he’s shut down. Given up.” She paused, straightening her blazer. “They beat the shit out of him, he was a mess by the time I saw him in holding. And I’ve never seen panic in his eyes, not like—” She shook her head. “He didn’t have any idea who set him up or why he was there, and he was scared shitless, but he looked them in the eyes and held his head high. Until he heard the judge. And then he just shut down.
“I don’t know what happened between you two and I don’t care, but I do know that we’re two of the only real friends he’s got.”
“Who’s the lead detective?” Liv asked, pushing to her feet. She knew she needed to stay calm and rational, and ignore the impulse to rush to Rikers to make sure Barba was alright. She wouldn’t do him any good if she started making waves without knowing the details. If powerful people wanted him behind bars, they might tighten the noose around his neck to keep her from casting doubt on his guilt.
***
“You been to see him?” Fin asked. They were alone in Liv’s office a few hours after Rita’s visit.
“Not yet. I pulled some strings to get a look at the file.”
“And?”
“And except for not having DNA, it’s pretty airtight. Mrs. Sherman took the detectives to the warehouse where she was assaulted, and the place had been thoroughly cleaned by someone who knew what they were doing. Even the piece of metal she used to escape had been cleaned of all traces of blood. The only fingerprints on the radiator were hers. And Barba doesn’t have an alibi.”
“For two days and nights?” Fin asked, not even trying to hide his skepticism. “You sure he ain’t guilty?”
She gave him a hard look. “Positive,” she said.
“If the vic smashed him in the head with a chunk of radiator, he’d have—” He stopped, correctly interpreting the look on her face. “He’s got injuries?”
“The arresting officers said he was bruised when they knocked on his door. Barba’s statement is…different.”
Fin grimaced. “He doesn’t have a lot of friends in the NYPD,” he muttered.
“But we do,” she said, raising her chin a notch, “and I’ll be damned if I let him be railroaded. I want you to reach out to Elliot, see if he can help—but unofficially for now. We need to be careful.”
“El’s not exactly the poster boy for subtlety. He’s also not a fan of Barba’s.”
“That’s why it’s better coming from you than me. We need to put personal feelings aside, we don’t know who we can trust right now. I’m going to Rikers—”
“Don’t you usually get the victim’s story first?” When Liv hesitated, he added, “I’m just sayin, putting personal feelings aside means considering the possibility—”
“I understand,” she cut in, and she did. She knew better than anyone that people could wear very convincing masks, and that sometimes even the people closest couldn’t see the darkness inside someone. “I need to talk to him,” she said, but what she really meant was that she needed to see him. She needed to know he was alright, and she needed to look into his eyes while he told her his side of the story.
“You’re the boss,” Fin said simply.
***
She’d seen pictures of the injuries he’d had during booking, injuries that the arresting detectives claimed had been sustained from Abigail Sherman during her struggle to escape. A swollen eye, a gash near his temple, a split lip, and a bruise on his forearm. Defensive wounds. They’d made her stomach turn and her eyes burn, and they’d only fueled her determination to bring everyone involved to justice.
She thought she was prepared for the sight of him, sitting in handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit with bruises on his face, but she was wrong. His eye was now swollen almost shut and there was a fresh gash below his eyebrow. His other cheek was newly-bruised above the line of his graying stubble.
His hands were on the table, fingers laced loosely together. His knuckles were bruised, even split in a few places, and the first two fingers of his left hand were so discolored that she worried they might be broken despite the fact that he had them slightly bent. Those injuries had not been there before his arraignment photos. She tried not to think about what might be hidden beneath his clothes, and she tried to keep the tears at bay.
He watched her approach, his bruised face unreadable, his eyes tracking her as she sat in the chair opposite him. “Captain Benson,” he said quietly.
“Rafa,” she started, her voice cracking.
“Don’t,” he said sharply, and for just an instant there was something in his eyes that broke her heart into a million pieces. And then it was gone, and the man sitting across from her was barely recognizable as her friend, her partner in so many ways, of the past decade. “Did Rita send you?” he asked, his voice as carefully controlled as his expression.
Rita had told her that he seemed shut down, ready to give up, but that wasn’t what Liv saw when she looked at him. He was in survival mode, and she was bitterly glad. She swallowed and squared her shoulders, doing her best to compartmentalize. There were eyes and ears all around them, and anything she said could be used against him.
“No,” she said. “The Brooklyn SVU is understaffed and overworked, and maybe I can help lighten their load a little.”
“Mm,” he answered. He knew better than anyone that the Manhattan SVU was perpetually understaffed and painfully overworked, and that police captains didn’t make a habit of stepping into other boroughs’ investigations to help out.
“Can you tell me what happened?” It was too broad a question, and she knew it by the way he continued to stare at her, impassive and silent. She put her elbows on the table and leaned closer. “Where were you last weekend?”
“Home.”
“All weekend?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“You see how that might be difficult to believe?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I spend a lot of time alone these days.” He indicated the room around them with a small tip of his chin. “Or at least, I did. This place isn’t big on privacy.”
“Do you know Abigail Sherman?”
“Only by name.”
“Where’d you first hear her name?”
“When two detectives came into my apartment and told me I’d been accused of raping her,” he said, and she couldn't quite hide her wince. “If I’d heard it before that, I don’t remember.”
“You’ve never met her?”
“As I said.”
“That’s what you told the arresting detectives, yes,” she said, “but it’s important that you think long and hard, Barba, make sure you haven’t forgotten any details.”
“Did you read my statement?”
“I did.” She hesitated. “Did you?” she asked, afraid to ask the question any more explicitly.
“I wasn’t seeing very well by then, but I think it was accurate when I signed. Not that it matters.”
“You made accusations…”
“I explained what happened.”
“You accused them to their faces.”
“They didn’t seem to remember. Like I said, not that it matters. Not much difference between a piece of pipe and a billy club, as far as the human skull’s concerned. They let you read my statement,” he said, circling back around to that fact. He licked his lip, shifting gingerly in his chair. “You must’ve convinced them you wouldn’t be biased by our…previous working relationship.”
“Cops learn quickly that you can never really know a person,” she said, and his nostrils flared as he drew a slow breath through his nose. “We’ve all been betrayed or misled by people we thought we could trust. They understand that. And the search for truth, justice.”
“Yes. They seemed very interested in truth and justice,” he agreed, his voice cold. “And since you’ve got access to their reports, I’m sure there’s no reason for us to continue talking.”
“You have something better to do?”
A small, humorless smile quirked his lips. “I never met Mrs. Sherman, I certainly never assaulted her, and I really think my lawyer should be present for any more of these questions.”
“You’re right, I don’t really need anything else from you. The truth is, Brooklyn PD doesn’t need my help, I asked them to loop me in as a favor. Because this is personal, isn’t it? Like I said, it’s hard to ever truly know a person. Maybe I just needed to look you in the eyes and let you know that I know. That I’m seeing you clearly without any of that bias you mentioned.”
“Then I guess you got what you came for.”
“I did. Although, it wouldn’t be the first time you showed a…lack of regard for the law, would it?” She paused, but he didn’t answer. “Baby Drew,” she said. He showed no reaction, staring across the table at her. “Ashtonja.” There was a slight tightening in his expression, barely noticeable. The names burned in her throat. Hurting him was hurting her. “Mariel McLaughlin,” she said.
His forehead wrinkled, brief confusion flitting across his features.
“Do you remember what I said after that verdict?” she asked, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. Liv pushed to her feet and his hands separated, his bruised fingers moving toward her for only an instant before pressing so tightly against the smooth surface that she could see them trembling from the pain. He almost cracked; she could see the emotion in his eyes, so she sharpened her voice and gave him a hard look. “Don’t forget it,” she said, turning to leave before she lost her resolve.
“Can you keep my mother away?” His voice was barely audible, but she could hear his raw pain.
She nodded once without looking at him, but she did look back when she reached the door. The sight of him sitting with his head bowed was unbearable. As she was escorted out, she saw him raise his head, his expression once more a bruised but impassive mask as a guard pulled him to his feet with a jangle of chains.
***
“You okay?”
“No,” she said, and Fin offered her a sympathetic look across the span of her desk. “The detectives answered my questions because their captain told them to, but they didn’t trust me and they definitely didn’t want to talk to me. And his injuries…” She shook her head, trying desperately to keep her emotions at bay.
“You’re sure they’re not like Abigail said—”
“I’m sure he didn’t have them when he opened his door to the police,” she cut in, giving him a look. “And he’s got more now. The longer he’s there…Fin,” she whispered hoarsely, “you know what that place is like. This is Barba we’re talking about.”
“Barba’s Barba and you’re you, Liv. You know I got your back whatever you gotta do.”
“What’d Elliot say?”
“He said he knows Suki and Johnson, said they’re good cops.”
“Do you know them?”
“Seen ‘em around.”
“You think they’re good cops?” When he didn’t immediately answer, she said, “He sat in that interrogation room and accused them to their faces of beating him after they had him in handcuffs.”
“Barba’s got balls, we knew that.”
“He cares about the truth, no matter what it costs him. And as much as I’d like to trust Elliot’s opinion on the Brooklyn squad—as much as I’d like to trust their captain—I can’t, not in this. But if they trust Elliot, maybe he can help us.”
“He didn’t seem real happy to find out you were still friends with Barba.”
Liv sighed and leaned back. “I know he doesn’t understand why Rafael did what he did, defending Wheatley, but that doesn’t mean—” She looked toward a knock at the door a moment before it opened and Elliot Stabler himself walked into the office. “El,” she said, realizing she wasn’t surprised to see him. She should’ve known he wouldn’t settle for hearing from Fin and not her.
Stabler nodded at Fin and closed the door. “You talk some sense into her?” he asked the lieutenant, and Fin lifted a hand as if to say he was staying out of it.
“Barba didn’t do it, Elliot,” Liv said, “and no matter what you think of him personally, he doesn’t belong in Rikers.”
“He’ll make his case at trial,” Stabler said, spreading his feet and crossing his arms over his chest. She recognized the stance, and she was in no mood for a battle. “I probably can’t stop you from being there, but if—”
“I’m not asking your permission—and I’m not asking you to do anything for him, either,” she said, unable to keep the tremor from her voice. She was scared for Barba, terrified, but she was also angry. “I understand how you feel about him, believe me. I hoped you’d be willing to do me a favor, but you don’t have to be involved at all. I’ve already got—”
There was another brisk knock on the door before Carisi burst into the room with his face flushed and his hair swept back from his forehead. “Now it’s a party,” Stabler said.
Carisi barely glanced at him, and then Fin, before meeting Liv’s gaze. “I was in court all day, I just heard. What the hell? You talk to Rita?”
“Yes,” Liv said. “Close the door.”
Carisi pushed the office door closed behind himself. “What can I do?”
“Aren’t you supposed to keep the rapists locked up?” Stabler asked.
“Barba’s not a rapist,” Carisi said, and Liv felt a surge of gratitude for the former detective. Having lost more than one case to Barba, who’d once fought from the same side of the aisle, Carisi could have justifiable reasons to distrust, resent, or even despise Barba. But he knew what kind of man Barba was at his core.
“You seem pretty sure for a guy who got his ass handed to him in court—” Stabler started, and Carisi turned toward him to interrupt.
“This squad’s a family, we have each other’s—”
“You’re not part of this squad,” Stabler said.
“—backs. Neither are you,” Carisi snapped, his blue eyes flashing with rare anger.
“Least I’m still a cop. I know something about loyalty.”
“Oh that’s rich coming from you.”
“But you lawyers, boy, you gotta stick together, right? Fuck the cops, right? Two senior detectives, good guys who saw enough evidence to arrest your buddy the baby killer—”
“Detective,” Liv said sharply, slapping her palms against her desk as she rose smoothly to her feet, “I think it’s best if you leave.”
Stabler stared at her in disbelief. “Seriously? You sent Fin to ask my help—”
“That was my mistake,” she cut in. She turned her attention to Carisi. “I’ve got a few calls out, I’m waiting to hear back. At the very least, maybe we can pull some strings to get him a trial date—”
“How many favors you gonna call in?” Stabler asked.
“As many as it takes.” She spread her arms. “All of them, if I have to.”
“Sherman is a senator. You’re risking your career.”
“And I’d do the same for either of them,” she said, gesturing toward Fin and Carisi, “but I’m not asking you to do the same. If you don’t want to help us, that’s fine, but please don’t get in the way.”
“Did you sleep with this guy or something?” Stabler asked.
“Hey,” Carisi objected angrily.
“It’s alright, Sonny,” Liv said. “You know what, Elliot? You left.” She pointed a finger at him. “You left, and life went on without you. Barba and I worked together almost as long as you and I were partners, and he was there for me through things you know nothing about—both professionally and as a friend. You don’t have to understand that, or respect it, and you don’t have to feel any obligation to help me. But you do need to remember that you are a detective, and you’re in this room with an assistant district attorney, a sergeant, and a goddamn captain because I made a choice to trust you despite all the reasons you’ve given me not to.
“So if you want to question my judgement, fine. That’s your choice. But as far as you’re concerned, this conversation is over.”
Stabler uncrossed his arms and fisted his hands by his sides. “Okay,” he said, attempting to sound conciliatory, “look, I get it—”
“I don’t have time for this,” she interrupted, pointing at the door. There were a lot of things she still hadn’t said to him, things that needed to be said eventually, but further conversation would have to wait until Barba was safe.
She thought he was going to argue, but after a moment he said, “Fine,” through his teeth and turned to leave. He slammed the door behind himself, rattling the blinds, and Liv winced before drawing a slow breath through her nose.
“He’ll cool off,” Fin said.
“He’s an asshole,” Carisi countered bluntly. He lifted a hand, looking contrite. “Sorry, Cap. Let’s go over the facts again, maybe—”
The door opened again and everyone looked at Rita Calhoun as she stepped into the office. “Did I just pass Mr. Police Brutality himself...Please tell me you did not talk to the DA’s office, too,” she said, swinging an accusing look from Carisi to Liv.
“You gotta start locking that,” Fin muttered, getting to his feet to cede the chair to Rita. He walked over and sank onto the sofa instead.
“I’m not here officially,” Carisi said, and Rita rolled her eyes as she took the chair in front of the desk. “But Barba’s still got friends there, and maybe we can call in some favors to get his case transferred to—”
“Don’t even say what you’re thinking, Counselor,” Rita cut in sharply, spearing him with a warning look.
“Everybody hold on,” Liv said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Barba wouldn’t want either of you to lose your careers for him, we need to do things the right way.” She sighed and divided a look between the two lawyers. “What’re we missing? What’s the motive for framing him? We need to find a link between Abigail Sherman and Barba.”
“You can’t convince the detectives to let you talk to her?” Carisi asked.
“No, they’ve closed ranks.”
“You outrank them,” Rita said, not bothering to hide her annoyance.
“They’re getting orders from someone higher than me,” Liv answered. “Their captain’s dodging me now, word traveled fast that I went to see Barba. And there’s no way to get to Abigail, she was on a private jet this afternoon.”
“She knows she lied, that’s why,” Rita said.
“Well,” Liv answered, “something happened to her, the photos are…disturbing. If someone assaulted her, we can’t—”
“She’s not getting justice like this,” Carisi said, his voice harsh with frustration.
“You don’t think she actually believes it was Barba?” Rita asked Liv in disbelief.
“No, I don’t know. Without being able to talk to her…” Liv trailed off as she looked down at an incoming text on her phone. She frowned and picked up the cell from her desk.
“Something wrong?” Carisi asked.
“Something else?” Rita muttered.
Liv looked at Fin. He raised his brows and sat forward to put his elbows on his knees, alerted by the mixture of confusion and concern in her expression.
“I just got an anonymous text…” She paused, looking at Rita.
“Something to do with Barba?” Rita asked.
“I’m not sure,” Liv said, but the sick twisting in her stomach said otherwise. “But I’ll let you know anything that might help.”
Rita’s expression tightened at the obvious dismissal. “Cop shit,” she said, barely controlling the disgust in her voice. “Got it.” She rose to her feet, giving Liv a hard look. “Just to be clear, I don’t care about protecting anyone but my client, and I’ll use any information I get. Don’t expect respect for any thin blue line bullshit.”
“My main concern is helping Barba,” Liv said, trying not to bristle at Rita’s implication. Liv couldn’t really blame her.
“We’ll see,” was all Rita said before turning and letting herself out of the office.
“Should I leave?” Carisi asked reluctantly.
Liv shook her head. “You’re here as a friend,” she reminded him. She gave him a pointed look. “Someone I trust.” She drew a deep breath and looked at Fin. “Does the name Nikki Lambert mean anything to either of you?”
Both men frowned as they considered the question. “I don’t think so,” Carisi answered.
“What’s the text say?” Fin asked.
“Look into the connection between Nikki Lambert and Elliot Stabler,” she answered.