What Lies Beneath

Chapter 11

Olivia was still wide awake at two-thirty in the morning. Not even being afforded the opportunity to sleep off the half bottle of bourbon she’d consumed. From drunk to hungover, Olivia had been awake for it all. Sprawled on her bed, she debated which was worse: the nightmares or insomnia. She could usually drink herself into such a stupor that falling asleep, or rather, passing out, wasn’t a problem. The nightmares couldn’t bother her if she was too drunk to even know she was alive. But then she had nights like these, where she would lie awake with the room spinning in a different direction every minute. She would feel her stomach churning, the salty saliva in her mouth, but she could never muster the energy to pull herself up and go to the bathroom. She wasn’t sick this morning, mercifully, but severely hung over. Pushing herself up, she got some washing done before work.

Mason was awake too, but for an entirely different reason. He had just woken from a vision most men would cry over when they found it was just a dream. His heart was racing. He could still see those vivid blue eyes peeking up at him through a raven curtain. Olivia Pearson was going to cause him trouble. No good had ever come from a man dreaming about a woman. Especially a woman like her. She is a broken woman. Pieces of her scattered all over. Mason could see it that morning, her first morning at the station. Her face had remained neutral until she’d met the chief. Then he could see how she forced her expressions to live up to the situation. When she left the chief’s office, her walls drawn up and all emotion had drained from her face-a blank canvas once more. She was just existing at this point - the fight had left her long ago.

Olivia was in a foul mood the following morning, her body was in agony from the fall yesterday, she didn’t sleep a wink and she had to take the bus - again. And to top it all off, it was hot as hell today. So when the Harvey Specter double, with his perfectly styled hair and immaculate suit, came strutting uninvited into her office, making demands, he nearly landed himself a punch in the throat. “My client will give a voluntary DNA sample to aid in the investigation,” he said by way of introduction. “I already know what you are going to find, but he’s not talking until those results are in. In the meantime, Detective Pearson, I strongly suggest you release my client as he has not been, and will not be charged with the murder of Dona Holden.” With a puffed out chest and a cocky smirk, he seemed satisfied.

“Mr.?” she prompts.

“Aaron Edwards,” he offered.

“Well then, Mr. Edwards, it’s a good thing I didn’t arrest your client for murder.”

“What are you talking about?” His arrogance faltered.

“Until the case of obstruction of justice has come before a court, Mr. Scott will remain in custody until proven guilty. I have the confession of Suzie Thorn in the Prosecutor’s office being processed as we speak. You are more than welcome to head on over to demand the release of your client.” Olivia stood up and walked past his stunned face–the look he was hoping to see on hers after he had told her what’s what. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Edwards, it appears I have a DNA sample to collect.” Leaving him standing in her office, she headed to the chief’s, gave him an update on the case and headed to the reception to collect a DNA kit. Mr. Edwards was sitting across from Mr. Scott–they were clearly in the middle of a heated discussion but snapped their mouths shut when Olivia came in without knocking, hoping Mr. pompous a*s understood the meaning behind her lack of manners.

 “Blood or saliva Mr. Scott?” She gave him the option.

“Both,” his attorney answered. “I don’t want any holds ups.”

“Very well.”

Olivia swabbed the inside of his cheek and pricked his finger for some blood. She thanked Finley for his cooperation and turned for the door to put a rush order on the DNA. She still needed to head back to that damn storage facility today to find that box. His DNA means nothing without the r**e Kit results.

With the way this case was going, Olivia shuddered to think what mess she would find in that evidence box. Praying that the dearly departed Detective Collins knew his a*s from his elbow.

Generously provided with two rookie cops to help her with the evidence retrieval the mammoth task seemed a little less daunting. Three hours later, Tweedledum and Tweedledee made the discovery.

“I found it!” Tweedledum had proclaimed victorious.

“What? No! He’s lying, I pointed to it!” Tweedledee objected.

“You are just looking to score some points, Brian, you are such a brown-nosing little shit.”

“Oh, like you are any better with your ‘chief can I get you this and chief can I get you th…”

Rubbing the base of her skull, where a dull ache formed. “Thank you. Both,” Olivia talked over them, stressing the last word, effectively putting a stop to their incessant bickering. She couldn’t be less bothered if the Queen of England herself had found it.

Finally, armed with her box of evidence and two silent rookies, she felt a sense of urgency to get back to the office. With the box resting on her lap, her arms cradled it, she silently pondered its secrets.

Tweedledum was behind the steering of the cop car–since Olivia’s car was still at the body shop, she’d probably have to sell a kidney to afford that little stunt. Tempted to inform him that her dead grandma would have gotten her back in half the time, but she didn’t think to corrupt the young hopefuls would be wise.

Feeling a little like a child on Christmas morning as she pulled the lid of the box, unpacked its contents on her desk and just basked in its glory for a second or two. She was going to make little piles to make sifting through it not as overwhelming, but as soon as her eyes landed on the file with Finley Scott’s name on it; she sat with it in her hands.

His statement along with Amanda’s - vehemently denying that he had been anywhere else than with her all night, right through to the following afternoon.–was the first thing she checked for holes. His fingerprints, and the DNA that–as Olivia suspected, never made it to the lab. The Kit, and some clothing samples. A photo printed on copying paper had her frowning. Why would a selfie of a drunk girl sloshing alcohol all over her friend’s shirt be of any significance to this case? Upon closer inspection, a perverse feeling of satisfaction coursed through her body. Ms. Amanda Brooks was going to have to explain why she thought it was a good idea to lie to a police officer.

In the background, not noticeable at first glance but as clear as day, was a couple leaning into each other. A still breathing Dona was smiling up at Finley Scott, just as Olivia was smiling down at them. Gotha!

Of course, this alone had little substance, but with Finley Scott denying he had ever gone to that party, was only going to make Olivia’s work that much easier. The foundation upon which he had built his straw house was quivering, and Olivia intended to blow and blow until the house came down.

As nervous energy coursed through her veins, she needed to do something. She couldn’t talk to Finley without his lawyer present and to be honest, she wanted just a little more to slap down on that table and say, “Explain this, Mr. Scott.”

She didn’t have Scott, but she had the next best thing, or so she had believed until the officer had informed her that Suzie got out on bail this morning, being allowed to wait for the hearing under house arrest. Olivia was just about to rip into him when she remembered she had handed the case off to the chief. Stomping like a petulant child to his office, she stepped in without knocking or offer a respectful greeting.

“Chief, I need to speak with Suzie Thorn,” came her flat demand.

He quirked an eyebrow at her but seemed unfazed otherwise as he laid down the paperwork he was busy reading.

“She got out on bail.”

“So I’ve heard. And might I add, from a police officer.”

“What do you need?” He was doing a much better job than she was to keep his anger in check.

“There is no updated contact information on file for Amanda Brooks, and I need to arrange a meeting with her.”

“What did you find, Pearson?” His interest peeked.

“There’s a picture of Mr. Scott being very chatty with Dona Holden at the party he denied attending, the very night they found her dead, and Amanda had confirmed his alibi.”

“I’ll get it for you.” He picked up the papers he had discarded earlier.

“This is urgent,” she insisted.

“I’ll get it, Detective.” His eyes unwavering as he made his point.

Olivia gave him a stiff nod and left his office, sulking to her office. This would never have happened in New York. Not because she was special, but because she needed to know these things to do her job. It would have been a different story if Suzie had nothing to do with her current investigations. But it wasn’t a different story, and a heads up would have been nice.  

With her nervous energy depleted and replaced with boiling frustration, she headed back to her early Christmas present to comb through the evidence until those DNA results came back or the chief with Amanda’s contact details.

“You look angry enough to avoid.” Katherine smirked from the doorway. Eyeing the abused piece of paper in Olivia’s hand. She has crumpled and straightened the statement so many times that it almost resembled some fancy scrapbook paper. “What crawled up there?” Obviously not concerned with Olivia’s foul mood, she plopped down on the chair and patiently waited for a reply.

“Don’t you have work, Detective Ambrose?” Olivia muttered.

Shrugging. “We’re in between murders.” She smirked at her joke and after a moment sighed at Olivia’s impassive look. “Me not having much to do is actually a good thing, Olivia.”

Olivia scoffed. “That’s why I’m so busy.” She almost felt bad for the snide remark.

“Sticks and stones,” Katherine said. “You need a drink or a man. C’mon, let’s go get a beer!”

Sputtering Olivia objected, “I do not need a man!”

“Yeah, you do. But to be honest, I think you need a drink more.”

“I have work to do.” Olivia gestured to the mountain of paperwork on her desk. “Besides, it’s Thursday, and it’s not even noon yet.”

Considering it for a moment, Katherine conceded. “Fine, but then we’re going to karaoke tomorrow night.” She smiled triumphantly.

Leering at her, Olivia pressed her lips together in annoyance–she was kinda hoping to slip under the radar with that one.

 ***

“Did you feel betrayed or just angry when you saw Cole Daniels with that file in his hands?”

Olivia’s stomach tightened with the mention of his name. “I don’t see how the comparison would change anything.”

“Well.” She shifted in her seat, looking at the clock. Their time was nearly up. “If you only felt anger, that would have been that. I’d hate for a colleague to sniff through my drawers. However, when I consider that colleague a friend, I’d feel betrayed along with it.”

She considered Doctor Wilson’s words for a moment. Did she consider Daniels her friend? “To be honest. I was just angry.”

“And what about Suzie’s bail?”

“What about it?”

“Did you feel betrayed not being informed about it? You were the one to uncover the facts,” she reminded Olivia. Recalling how mad Olivia was that she basically barged into the chief’s office, all but growling at him, she would have to admit that there was more than anger there. “More than anger,” she admitted out loud. With Daniels, she still had the sense to control the anger, but with the chief, it was different–like an external force. She had never in her life disrespected an authority-figure like she did that day.

“Our time is nearly up, but I want you to consider why there was such a difference in emotions between Daniels and Callaway. Think about what authority figures represent to the world and compare that to your own past.”