Repercussions

Alex's conscious mind rose slowly from the depths of sleep. The sensation of gentle hands caressing her back, which she assumed was leftover from a dream, was soon joined by the touch of warm lips on the back of her neck as she tried to roll over.

"I didn't expect you to wake up so soon," Olivia whispered, barely lifting her mouth from Alex's skin.

In the soft darkness Olivia's voice focused Alex's attention instantly. Alex tried to shift her weight but Olivia pulled her closer into their spooned position. Olivia's warm, solid presence so near should have been relaxing. It was anything but. Olivia's hand ranged under the hem of Alex's short, cotton night shirt and came to rest on one of her breasts. Her lips continued to caress the soft flesh near Alex's hairline as her thumb brushed Alex's nipple. The touch of Olivia's lips and fingers urged on the light throbbing between Alex's legs that had begun at the sound of her whisper.

"When did you expect me to wake up?"

Despite a muted beeping from the street below, Alex's question sounded loud in the near silence.

"I'd hoped I could at least get you wet first."

"What makes you think you haven't," Alex said, smiling into the darkness.

Olivia trailed her hand down Alex's belly. Her fingers slipped under the waistband of Alex's panties and moved downward. The beeping from outside increased in volume and persistence. Alex covered Olivia's hand with her own trying to move it lower to cup her now pleasantly aching mound. Olivia kissed the back of Alex's neck one more time.

"That's your alarm clock, Alex. Time to wake up."

Alex opened her eyes. Bright sunlight streamed in her bedroom windows. 7:10am...her alarm clock had been going off for 20 minutes. She wasn't surprised to find her own hand nestled firmly between her thighs. Alex squeezed her eyes shut, grasping for the last sensations from the dream. "Soon enough," she thought. She threw back the covers and stripped off her night shirt on the way to the shower.

******

The eyes of the full compliment of the squad's detectives were on Olivia as she pointed to the cluster of red dots on the display map.

"The first six attacks happened in hotels clustered around Times Square. Two of the six, the first and the fifth, were at the same hotel."

"Means our guy works or lives in the area," Stabler said, taking a swig of his coffee.

"Or both," Olivia said, moving to the chalk board. "The attacks weren't all on the same day or at the same time of day. Two were in the morning, one around dinner time, the other three were late night."

Cragen moved to the blackboard and pointed to a morgue photograph.

"Janet Markum, victim number seven, her hotel is at 48th and Lex, no where near the first six."

"Also odd," Olivia said, "because she's the only victim who's local. The rest, out of towners."

"And she's the only one he's killed."

George Huang set his briefcase down near Munch's desk.

"What about the husband?"

"Roger Markum, 45, architect," Elliot read from his notes. "Away at a staff retreat starting the night before the attack, came home on the first train he could get after we notified."

"Janet fits the age profile, late-30s to mid-40s," Huang said. "What she doesn't fit is the physical profile. The rest of the victims were blonde. She's got the fair skin though."

Huang stepped closer to the chalkboard to study the photo.

"So far, this guy has been meticulous about not leaving traces of himself. He wasn't as careful this time. The report said the rape kit turned up fluids."

Olivia nodded.

"She's the only victim we've gotten any DNA evidence from."

"You might not be dealing with the same guy, or he might be degrading. Have you ruled out a copycat?"

Olivia shook her head.

"I'm still working the reports."

"Well, if it is the same guy, deviation from pattern might indicate a decline in mental state. It could also mean his cycle's accelerating and he's moving on to another victim set."

"First thing we need to do is talk to the husband," Cragen said, crossing his arms. "Olivia, Elliot, find out why she was in that hotel in the first place. Munch, Fin, work the Stockwell case. See if you can get a hold of our boy photographer and find out what really went on with Amy Stockwell at that party."

Munch grabbed the manilla envelope filled with Damon Miller's photos out of the stack of files in Olivia's inbox and followed Fin out into the hall. Elliot held out the keys to their motorpool sedan for the day. The back of his hand brushed the roses in the vase on the corner of Olivia's desk.

"Me or you," Elliot asked.

"You."

"What time did you get out of here last night," Elliot asked as he shrugged on his coat.

"Not long after you did. I went out for a late dinner."

Elliot grinned back over his shoulder as he started toward the hallway.

"See, I told you he'd want to see you."

******


"Please, sit down," Roger Markum gestured to the couch as he sat in a chair opposite. Markum looked every day of his 45 years. The casual turtle neck and khakis did nothing to hide a middle-aged spread.

Olivia sat as Elliot wandered over to the mantle to look at the row of framed photos.

"Can you tell us why Janet was in the hotel instead of at home, Mr. Markum," Olivia asked.

"The renovation down the street has stirred up all sorts of vermin so we were having the house fumigated. The timing seemed right with me at the retreat for three days. I still can't believe it."

"We'll need to get the name of your exterminator, as well as of anyone else who might have known Janet was going to be at that hotel," Elliot said. He picked up a framed photo of the couple sitting on a blanket on a beach.

"When was this taken?"

"This past Labor Day in Nantucket."

"How did you pick that hotel," Olivia said softly, balancing her tone against Stabler's.

"Airline miles. We had a deal to get extra miles for staying at certain hotels. This would have given us enough for free tickets to Hawaii. I never should have gone back to that damn retreat."

Elliot moved to stand behind the couch. He pulled his note pad out of his pocket and opened it.

"Gone back?"

Markum nodded.

"I had to be there for check-in Tuesday afternoon. I hopped a train Tuesday evening and spent the night at the hotel with Janet. I was on the 6:15am back out to the retreat center in Green's Farms Wednesday morning, in time for the 8am breakfast speech."

Markum pulled his wallet out of his pants pocket. He rifled through it and pulled out a train ticket stub. He handed it to Olivia.

"Why'd you come back to the city? Why not just stay at the retreat?"

Markum ran a hand over his face. He got up from the chair and moved to the mantle. There he made a small adjustment in the positioning of the framed photo of himself and Janet in Nantucket Stabler had put back on the mantle piece. He gazed at the photo for a moment before turning back to face his visitors.

"The new managing partner, all of 33 years old, thinks we should 'bond' like we're some dot com or something. I've got 20 years experience as an architect. I don't need to sit in the cold with people I don't socialize with in the city and drink bad beer."

"I know it's difficult question, Mr. Markum," Elliot said, looking up from the notes he was writing, "and I'm sorry to have to ask. Were you and Janet intimate that night at the hotel?"

Markum's face flushed. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Actually, yes. Janet was 38. Lately I got the feeling that it was her biological clock waking her up in the morning not the clock on her bedside table. It was the right time of month so I needed to be there that night. We're trying to...we had been trying for a baby for over year."

"We're going to need a DNA sample from you to rule out your DNA from any that may have been left by Janet's attacker," Olivia said, her eyes trained on Markum's face.

"Just tell me when and where."

Out on the sidewalk Elliot paused to shove his notebook back into his coat pocket. Though Olivia leaned against their car she was giving off enough nervous energy to seem in motion.

"Tell me what you're thinking," Stabler said, digging out the keys to the car.

"It's too pat. His reactions were too perfect. Did you watch him while he was looking at the photo? Not a single emotion. Not one. But when he focused on us, it was all there."

"So the guy's numb. He just lost his wife."

Olivia raised an eyebrow at her partner.

"What else did you notice about the photo?"

Elliot searched his memory for a few seconds.

"That underneath that big, floppy beach hat, Janet Markum was a blonde as recently as a month ago. Damn!"

Elliot banged on the roof of the car.

"Let's get that DNA test scheduled."

"And check out his alibi. He gave up that ticket stub way too easily."

******