Voight stood, arms crossed, as he looked at the white board. Pasted on, was a photo of a bruised and bloodied tender-aged child. It had been a long week, following down leads and closing in on the suspect. There was something different about cases that involved children for Voight. In all his years on the force, he could never figure what would possess someone to harm children. He shook his head as he erased the names of the suspects and took off the photos.
"We got him." Erin said, coming behind him and taking a seat on the edge of a desk.
Voight nodded, looking down at the photo that he held in his hands. "Somehow, it doesn't feel enough."
She nodded.
Voight handed the picture to her, "Jail is too easy a sentence for scum like that."
She tucked it into a folder, "At least, he'll be off the streets and can't hurt anyone else."
Voight smirked, "I hope he gets a taste of his own medicine in there."
Erin scoffed. "Hey, we're getting drinks at Molly's. Why don't you come down with us?"
Hank shook his head and turned to clean off the rest of the white board, "I've got to wrap up some paperwork and I was thinking of giving Olive a call later on tonight."
"Erin, you ready?" Jay asked as he came out from the hall and grabbed his bag from underneath his desk.
She nodded, "Hank, you sure you don't wanna come?"
Hank made his way to his office and over his shoulder said, "I'm good. You two go ahead. But I don't want to see you two hungover tomorrow morning!"
He closed his office door and looked out his window. He could see dark clouds forming and a few flashes of lightning in the distant sky. He turned around to his desk, grabbing a shot glass and bottle of whiskey from the drawer and poured.
He sat on his office chair, flipping through folders and signing forms, occasionally taking a sip of whiskey, relishing the burn as it made its way down. After a while, he glanced up at the clock. 9:56 PM.
He shook his head at how fast the time had gone and so decided to call it night Hank rose, straightening his desk, closing his office blinds and grabbing his jacket.
He felt an odd cramping like pain slowly creep its way up his arm. He shook it, trying to loosen it up but it wouldn't stop. The pain began to intensify, Voight's breath ran short and he steadied himself on his desk. He took deep breaths when suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his chest. He winced at the pain, grabbing hold of his chest and letting out a groan. The lightning flashed outside, matching the feeling of the needle-like pain as it crept and shot across his chest.
Voight tried to reach for his phone that lay on his desk but the pain in his chest kept tightening making each gasp for air futile. He dropped to his knees, his phone just out of his reach. Fighting the pain, he tried to stand but his legs felt a thousand pounds and it was as if his body was trying to implode. His body gave out and he fell to the floor, pushing the papers off the desk and they scattered on the floor.
He laid there, staring at the ceiling, clutching his chest, taking short gasps as his eyes slowly closed.