Authors Note: For those of you reading here is part two. Just a warning there is a bit of violence in this part.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters; I make no money from this. This is written purely for my own enjoyment and maybe that of anyone who reads this.

Three days passed and Costa was still in the wind. The FBI was heading up the search for him, for the most part the Intelligence unit was staying out of it. They had other cases to work and some hot shot from the Bureau thought it would be a good idea if Voight and Lindsay kept their distance. Voight had been peeved off about the decision but Lindsay was quietly glad the unit wasn't getting all familiar with her past. Her name had been suppressed from the official records but if any of the squad started reading the files it wouldn't take them long to put two and two together and work out she was the kid. She wished they'd hurry up and find him though, maintaining a state of constant hypervigilance was starting to take its toll. She hadn't been home in days; instead she was sleeping at the station, working on anything constantly. When Voight finally noticed he sent her home, told her to get some rest, and said he'd have a patrol car go by her place. She didn't have the energy to fight him, mentally and physically she was drained.

Arriving home she locked her door and headed straight for the shower, unclipped her gun and placed it on the vanity before turning the water on and stripping off. She stepped under the warm stream of water and for a second closed her eyes. She let the water run over her head and felt her body begin to relax, she let her guard down. She didn't hear the door to her apartment open, she didn't hear the almost silent footsteps walk across the floor, she didn't realise she wasn't alone until someone grabbed her.

Every self-defence lesson she'd ever had kicked in, she tried to scream but a fist came flying hard across her face, she kicked, she got a knee in somewhere the man loosened his grip but he still had her trapped, she tried to reach for her gun but it wasn't there, another fist came flying and hit her hard across the other side of her face, she lost her balance and slipped. She hit her head hard and for a moment she blacked out, when she came to she was being dragged out of the shower by her legs, she tried to kick free but no sooner was one leg lose it was being held back down again. It was then she realised there wasn't just one man attacking her there were three and every one of them was bigger and stronger than she was. As they tied her up they continued to lay into her with their fists and feet until she lost consciousness again.

-8-8-8-

Jay walked up the stairs to Erin's apartment, a six pack in hand. He wasn't invited, she didn't know he was coming but he hopped the offer of beer might be enough to get her talking; there was something on her mind, something other than work getting to her. He could tell by the little things, all week she'd been hyper-vigilant, looking over her shoulder at every turn. If she was in some kind of trouble he wanted to know about it so he could protect her and protect his own arse too. In his mind he was going over everything he wanted to say but when he reached her apartment it all went out his head.

The door was slightly open; Erin never left her door unlocked, let alone open. Instinct told him not to touch the handle; instead he pushed the door open more with his elbow. "Lindsay," he called into the open doorway, "are you home? It's me Halstead, can I come in?" Silence. He stepped into the apartment and began walking towards the kitchen. The lights were off but the blinds were open, the open space of the kitchen living area was lit by the dark glow of the city lights. He saw her phone and keys sitting on the counter. "Erin, are you here?" he called out again, more silence. He walked towards the bedroom, the door was open, the lights off, he could see the outline of her jacket on the bed. "Erin," he called out again but by now he knew something was seriously wrong. He walked through the bedroom and into the bathroom, the only room in the house with a light on and there he saw it, blood on the floor, a crack in the shower screen, the only signs in the whole house that there had been a struggle.

He backed out the room fast, went back to the living area and phoned Voight.

"Lindsay's missing," he said trying to keep his head together. "I went to her apartment to have a drink and her door was open. There's blood in the bathroom."

"Okay," Voight sounded way to calm, "Don't touch anything, I'm on my way."

-8-8-8-

Voight drove lights flashing to Lindsay's apartment; he took the stairs at a run. He was still hoping Halstead had it wrong but he knew the guy was a good cop, he wouldn't get this wrong. In the apartment Halstead was pacing back and forth in the open space near the kitchen. He was hoping Voight would be able to give him a different explanation but that hope was lost as soon as Voight saw the bathroom. He was calling it in before he was even back in the kitchen. Within ten minutes Lindsay's apartment was full of police and detectives.

Voight lead Jay out of the apartment, "Let the crime scene guys do their thing," he told him. "I'll meet you back at the station. I'm calling the rest of the team in. I know who's taken her."

-8-8-8-

Lindsay came to in the back of a moving van, her ankles and wrists were tied and a black sack covered her head. She was on her side, something hard was digging into her hip, she tried to move but every time she did someone would kick her. . She soon got the message, stopped moving and began wishing she'd blackout again.

When they finally arrived at the destination someone pulled her into a sitting position and dragged her to the end of the van.

"I'm going to untie your feet now so you can walk," an unfamiliar voice told her. "If you try to run away there will be consequences."

She felt the binding on her feet loosen; as soon as they were free she let out an almighty kick. She made good contact with someone, she heard them stagger backwards and fall. She got to her feet and started running, her hands were still tied and the black sack covered her face. She couldn't see where she was going; she had no idea if she was running to safety or into more danger. Instinct told her to just keep moving, the ground beneath her feet felt like gravel and was slopping downwards. She ran with her hands out stretched in front of her, she was picking up speed and then she slipped, and was falling forward. She hit the ground hard, heard a snapping sound and pain shoot up through her shoulder. It knocked the wind out of her and for a moment she couldn't move. From behind her she could hear laughing and the sound of heavy footsteps. She tried to stand, she got as far as her knees before someone kicked her in the back, pushed her into the ground.

"Stupid bitch," she heard someone say as they tied her ankles, then began dragging her along the ground by her feet. She tried to keep her face off the ground but there was nothing she could do to stop the gravel ripping the rest of her front to pieces. When they reached their destination she was dropped to the ground.

"Stay," they said but before she could even entertain ideas of running away again her ankles were chained to the floor and her wrists to another chain. The chains were tightened and she was forced into a standing position. Her arms were wrenched above her head and she felt her shoulder rip out of place. She cried out in pain but the person pulling the chain didn't seem to care, they just kept pulling until they were satisfied, until her arms were stretched as far as they could go and only the ends of her toes touched the ground. She heard footsteps as they walked away, footsteps as someone else walked towards her, then they pulled the sack from her face. Costa stood in front of her smiling.

"Welcome Erin," he said. She spat blood in his face.