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Silly Psychic Thing
It was nice to be back. Her colleagues might have been thrilled to spend a week in Palm Springs, but they weren't having to fine tune a lecture or meet with committee chairs, were they? More important, they hadn't been without the attentions of a certain SVU detective for an entire week.
Alex picked up her speed a bit as she neared the SVU squad room. Anticipation turned to disappointment, though, as the view she'd been looking forward to was completely blocked. Three detectives and their captain were huddled around Olivia's desk.
"Detectives?" she called out. Was there a problem?
Turning toward her, Elliot and Fin moved apart, and now she could see--
"Alex, hey, how was the conference?"
The voice was the same, but . . . "Uh, it was fine," she said. "What happened to your hair?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah." Olivia patted at some of the strands, all of which were standing straight up. "It's been that way since . . . ."
"Alex." Rising from his seat, Elliot grasped the attorney's arm and led her a few feet away. "Huang says she's OK," he glanced back at Olivia, "well, mostly OK, but it's best if she doesn't, you know, talk about it."
"Doesn't talk about what?"
Still huddled with her, Elliot replied softly, "Remember when you told us to hit the Country Glen golf course and not come back until we had a witness?"
She nodded, not sure where this was going.
With a sigh, he muttered, "Freak thunderstorm . . . guy's mouthing off . . . Olivia grabs his golf club, goes up for a little swing . . . ."
"Oh, my God!" Alex exclaimed. "She was hit by lightning?"
He nodded. "And ever since then--"
"Heads up, People," Cragen interrupted. "We've got one!"
Elliot hurried back over to the desk, where Olivia was gazing into space. After a few seconds, her head jerked up and she gasped for air.
"What'd ya get?" Fin asked.
"I saw . . . ." Olivia closed her eyes for a moment. "I saw a woman getting a haircut."
"Haircut," Munch repeated. "Could mean beauty salon, could mean barber--"
"Barber!" Cragen snapped his fingers. "As in barber shop quartet."
"As in the number 4," Elliot chimed in.
Munch rolled back over to his computer and tapped on the keyboard. "Sanders lived on Fourth avenue four years ago," he informed them.
Suddenly, Olivia spoke up again. "I also saw a cup of coffee," she said.
"Coffee's brown!" Fin said. "Sanders drives a brown BMW!"
Elliot slammed his hand down on the desk. "That's it! It's Sanders." He nodded approvingly at Olivia. "Ya done good, Partner," he said, then turned to Alex. "We just need a warrant and we can wrap this one up."
The attorney stared at them for a long moment. "This is the biggest pile of b.s. I have ever been handed," she declared. "I told you last week that I am not asking for a warrant in this case without solid evidence." Spinning around, she stomped out of the room. "I can't believe you people."
The others listened wordlessly as her heels clicked angrily down the hall.
Elliot handed Olivia a comb. "Well, it was worth a shot."
"We really need that warrant, Liv," Fin said.
Frowning, Olivia drew off her sweater and reached for the top button of her blouse. "I promised Alex I wouldn't do this any more," she sighed. She undid another button, then reached for a lipstick. After a few minutes, she fluffed her hair and gave her appearance a final inspection.
"I'll be at Cabot's office for an hour or so," she said. An image of Alex's expression when she stormed out popped into her head. "Maybe two." She grabbed a spare turtleneck from her bottom drawer and started for the exit. "One warrant coming up . . . ."
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