Authors Note: For those of you reading here is part four. If you're enjoying the story I'd love to hear from you. Thank you to anyone who's already something on the reviews, much appreciated. 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.

Seven days had passed since Lindsay had gone missing. The entire intelligence team were pulling out all stops to try and find her but every lead they'd found had run to a dead end. They were all reaching the point of complete mental and physical exhaustion but no one could bring themselves to stop and rest. They all knew that every hour passing reduced the chance of finding her alive. Voight was taking it harder than any of them, he'd crossed the line with almost every purp, they'd dragged in for questioning. The cage was being used more than the interrogation rooms, not a single person left without sheading blood somewhere but none of them had the information they needed. They'd raided several buildings, busted two large drug rings but when the dust settled there was never any sign that Costa or Lindsay had ever been there.

Voight drove slowly around the streets of Costa's old neighbourhood, Halstead sat in the seat beside him. They were looking for clues, looking for people who might know something, might show them the link that was missing. Somewhere else in the city Olinsky and Ruzek were tailing another associate, while Dawson questioned associates at the prison again.

Voight's phone began ringing, he looked down at the ID, 'Wendy' one of his CIs.

"Voight," he said answering the phone, "what have you got?"

"That detective Lindsay you looking for," the woman began saying, "she just got kicked out a van half a block from my corner."

"Where are you?" He waited for the woman to give him the address. "I'll be there in three minutes." He hung up the phone, turned the car around and hit the accelerator.

"What did they say?" Halstead asked as Voight began driving fast.

"I know where Lindsay is," he said and he kept driving.

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The heroin was wearing off, that was the primary thought running through Lindsay's mind, followed closely by where's Costa, when's he coming back. She'd reached a point where she no longer fought the heroin, she wanted it, she needed it, she almost looked forward to Costa coming in and giving her more, it made the pain go away, it made her forget where she was. It seemed to be a long time since her last dose, the withdrawal symptoms were more pronounced, her whole body was aching, her muscles were twitching , she was starting to sweat, her nose was running.

The door opened at the end of the room and Costa walked in. In his hand he held a loaded syringe and a knife.

"Hello Erin," he said bending down to her level, "how are you feeling?"

She lifted her head up and glared at him but she didn't say anything.

"Is that how it's going to be? Okay then." He took the knife and cut the binds holding her arms to the chair. "If you want your present you're going to have to give it to yourself." He placed the syringe in her hand and took half a step back.

He wasn't going to give it to her she realised, if she wanted it she was going to have to give it to herself. She wanted it, she wanted to make the pain stop, if she was going to be held in this awful place she didn't want to feel it but then there was the other part of her brain telling her not to take it, telling her it was bad for her. For ten minutes she fought the urge to inject the drug but in the end the pain became too much. With a hand that wouldn't stop shaking she carefully lined the needle up with a vein and inserted it, just as she was about to push the syringe in when Costa stepped forward.

"You took too long," he said as he took the syringe away. He reached down and cut the binds from her ankles. "Come on," he said yanking her to her feet, "we're going for a ride."

She stumbled through the building trying to keep up, Costa was moving quickly and her feet wouldn't move fast enough. On several occasions she lost her footing but Costa had a vice like grip on her arm, instead of falling he'd just keep dragging her along. She yelped in pain on more than one occasion, but all Costa did was laugh and they kept going. When they finally made it outside she looked around to try and see where they were, all she saw was open space and trees, they were out of the city but that was all she could tell. They reached the van and he threw her in the back, then he slammed the door and left her.

It was dark in the van, Lindsay looked around to see if there was anything she could use to get away but the van was locked up tight from the outside and there was nothing inside she could use as a weapon. She huddled in the furthest corner and waited. Costa left her there for a long time, the aches in her body got worse and she began to break out in cold sweats, she started shivering uncontrollably but resisted the urge to cry. When Costa finally came back he hopped in the back with her while someone else drove.

"We're going to visit your old neighbourhood," he told her, "I wonder if there will be any friendly faces there."

For hours they drove along, Lindsay never said a word but Costa talked, he threatened her, he taunted her, told her he'd be watching her, told her she'd never be safe. She tried to block out his words, tried to keep track of where they were going instead, what direction they turned, how long they drove before the next turn but after a while she got confused and lost tract. Finally he told the driver to pull over, the van stopped, Costa stood up and walked towards her, she pushed herself into the far corner of the van and tried to kick him when he got close but he was expecting it. He grabbed her legs and pulled her so hard she was on her back in a second. She hit her head as she fell backwards and that moment of dazedness was all Costa needed. With his weight on top of her so she couldn't move he grabbed her and pulled out a needle.

"One last hit for the road," he said as he inserted the needle into her arm and injected the heroin. Then the van door opened and he kicked her outside.

The impact with the ground coincided with the rush hitting her body, everything jarred, she heard something crack, for a moment she lay there waiting for the pain but it didn't come, then she remembered where she was, what she needed to do, what was about to happen to her. She forced herself on to her feet and began walking up the road, one hundred yards ahead she could see a small group of women working the corner, reaching them was all she thought about as she put one foot in front of the other. Walking was difficult, her legs didn't want to work properly; she kept falling down and at one point tried to crawl before forcing herself on to her feet again. She knew if she collapsed on the street without anyone seeing her she would die. Finally when she was thirty yards away one of the women noticed her.

"Hey miss, are you okay?" one of the women called as she began walking towards her. Lindsay tried to answer but her legs gave way beneath her and she fell to her knees. She was still on the ground when the woman reached her. "Miss?"

"Voight," Lindsay said concentrating hard on what she had to say, "Call Hank Voight."

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