Chapter 18: Bad Dreams and Realities

Residence of Abigail Asher
West Sunnyside Avenue
Sheridan Park
5:30 AM

"No! Mama! Mama! Nooooo!"

Detective Harrison was suddenly awoken yet again by the same bereaved screaming that always came as part of the haunting dream of the same tragic event that had occurred seven years earlier during a case he worked as an FBI agent. However, this time he woke up on Detective Asher's couch wearing nothing but a pair of plaid boxers and wrapped up in a black and brown fleece blanket that bared the name of his and Asher's high school in their Vermont hometown. The detective struggled to get off the couch before suddenly finding that his bare left foot had crushed a disposable plastic drinking cup that still contained some of the underlying orange juice and vodka remnants from the "screwdriver" he had drank the night before.

"Shit!" Harrison said under his breath after sighing deeply. He quickly removed the crushed cup from the sole of his foot and staggered into Asher's small kitchen. He threw away the crushed cup before retrieving another plastic cup and filling it with some orange juice. Eyeing a bottle of vodka, which he had left out on the counter the night before, he sighed before pouring some of the vodka into the new cup atop his orange juice.

CPD District 34
7:00 AM

An hour and a half later, after taking the time to shower, get dressed, and catch a taxi to The Wards, Harrison entered District 34. In his hand was the case file he had discovered at Detective Asher's apartment. However, what was quite different about the normally professional and reverent detective on this particularly uneasy morning was his disposition.

"Good morning Detective!" Sergeant Mahoney greeted from her desk.

Harrison let out an apprehensive sigh before putting on a brave face to address the Sergeant. "Morning, Sarge", he said, "How are you?"

Mahoney knew right then that something was very apparently off with the detective. "I'm just fine, thanks", she replied, "If you don't mind me asking, Detective, are you okay?"

Harrison cleared his throat. "I had a little bit of a rough night last night, to be honest with you", he said, "but I'm hanging in there. I appreciate the concern, Sarge, thanks."

"Not a problem", she said, "Could you do me a favor and stop by here again before you leave tonight?"

Though perplexed by the abrupt request, Harrison nodded. "Sure", he said before deciding to change the subject, "Is Lieutenant Broussard in her office upstairs?" He motioned to the staircase using the case file he had in his hand.

Sergeant Mahoney nodded. "She got in about half an hour ago", she replied, "So she should be, yeah."

Harrison nodded. "Thanks, Sarge", he said, "I'll come talk to you later."

The dogged young detective then promptly marched upstairs and crossed through the double doors into the Narcotics squad room. An older female investigator, Detective Sharon Granger, turned to see him in. Granger was a muscular, heavyset short-haired brunette in her mid-forties who sported a Chicago White Sox t-shirt and black cargo pants.

"Something I can help you with?" Granger asked as she noticed the CPD Detective's badge on Harrison's waistband, "Detective…?" Her voice trailed off.

"Troy Harrison, ma'am", Harrison clarified, "I work across the hall in Homicide. Is your lieutenant in her office?"

Granger stood up from her seat and nodded. "She is", she replied, "But I think she's on the phone at the moment if you'd like to wait."

Not wanting to take "no" for an answer, Harrison anxiously shook his head. "With all due respect, Detective...?" He paused for Granger to fill in the blank.

"Sharon Granger", Granger chimed in.

"Detective Granger", Harrison said with an increasingly nervous tone in his voice, "I do apologize, but I need to see Lieutenant Broussard now. It's urgent." He hustled past Granger's desk and hurried toward the Lieutenant's office. He pounded three times on the door.

Through the panel in the door, Harrison could see an apparently miffed Lieutenant Kathy Broussard say something to whomever she was speaking with on the phone before promptly putting down the receiver. She then crossed to her office door, at which point Harrison stood back a bit so she could open it.

"Detective Harrison", Lieutenant Broussard said as she opened the door, "You look like whatever's brought you to our side of the hall can't wait."

Harrison nodded. "I apologize for interrupting you, ma'am", he said with great sincerity, "But you're right, this can't wait. May I please come in?"

The lieutenant pulled her door open further and motioned to the inside of her office. Harrison stepped in, nodded to Detective Granger, and shut the door behind him.

"What's up, Detective?" Lieutenant Broussard asked as she sat down back at her desk.

Harrison sat down in a small leather chair facing the lieutenant's desk, placing the case file on top of the desk and sliding it over to her. "Pardon my being so blunt, Lieutenant", he said, "But why wasn't I told you guys were investigating the Rossi-Fremont Housing Projects? That location is almost certainly linked to the Maxwell King homicide that our squad's been working all this time."

Lieutenant Broussard opened the case file Harrison had brought with him and almost immediately sighed with discontent. "Abby left this for you, didn't she?" she asked, putting two and two together.

"Yes ma'am", Harrison replied candidly, "She left it out in the open on her kitchen table. Is that where she and Ernie Machado are right now?"

"Yes", Lieutenant Broussard said with a very apprehensive tone about her, "But beyond that, I'm afraid I can't comment any further since the investigation is so sensitive."

"I was an FBI agent for ten years before I came here to Chicago, Lieutenant", Harrison said, "I worked a lot of organized crime cases and I knew a lot of agents who often worked undercover. I'm well aware of what Abby and Ernie are up against."

"Then", Lieutenant Broussard said, "If I may ask, what's sticking in your craw so bad?"

"Part of it is this", Harrison said, "I have great respect for the secretive work you and your squad do, but I think that if you guys had given the Gang Unit the intel about Maxwell King, King would likely still be alive. Hank Voight said he had sent you a memo asking for any intel you guys had on King."

The lieutenant nodded before holding up a piece of paper, apparently the memo to which Harrison referred. "It's right here", she replied, "And if I may be blunt this time, Detective, my problem isn't with Voight's intel request, it's with Voight himself."

Harrison then gave Broussard a very obvious look of confusion. "I'm sorry", he said, "I don't follow."

"You're new to CPD, Detective", Lieutenant Broussard said, "But, as you know, my husband and I have been around here for twenty-plus years. Hank Voight is a very experienced and well-intended cop. But, be that as it may, he rubs a lot of folks in this department the wrong way."

"I know, I know", Harrison said, "He and Alvin Olinsky bend the rules, there's stories about them raising hell all over the Twenty-First District. I may be new, ma'am, but you should know I have ears like an eagle."

"They have been known to break the rules outright, Detective", Lieutenant Broussard said, "That's part of the reason I haven't chosen to immediately comply with Voight's intel request. Plus, there's the more important possibility that giving out that intel could taint the undercover investigation that Abby and Ernie are currently working on."

"Which brings me to my next question", Harrison said, "Did you have Abby already working for you before she even transferred up here?"

The lieutenant sighed, realizing how good Harrison was at putting the pieces of a metaphorical puzzle together. "Abby always says how intuitive you are", she replied with a grin, "To answer your question, yes. I recruited Abby straight out of the Academy. Our deal was she would work two years on regular Patrol and I would put in a good word for her when she took the Detective's exam. If she passed, which she did, she would be assigned up here to partner with Ernie and work undercover."

"And the fact that Abby's appearance and build make her look younger than she actually is", Harrison said with a tone that was equal parts concerned and snippy, "Is that a plus for you?"

Any lightheartedness that had been in Lieutenant Broussard's expression immediately disappeared with Harrison's change in tone. "Excuse me, Detective?" she said with a very defensive manner.

"I mean, come on, Kathy", Harrison continued, "No disrespect to you, Ernie, or your girl Detective Granger out there, but if you sent Ernie in there alone, every junkie in The Wards would smell 'cop' on him all the way from the Sears Tower. Abby's got a slim build, a small frame, short stature, and a dirty mouth. She fits in well."

"As right as you are about all that, Detective", Broussard said, "I don't appreciate your tone, sir. If you're angry because you're worried about Abby, then fine. I understand that. I love that girl too. She's in no way expendable."

Harrison sighed, calming himself. "I wholeheartedly agree, Lieutenant", he said, "I'm sorry for my little outburst, ma'am. It's just that Abby and I have known each other since we were kids back in Vermont. We love each other as friends."

The lieutenant nodded. "She's said as much to all of us", she said, "I think she left that case file for you as a way of letting you know that she's okay and where she'd be. It doesn't exactly jive with my squad's procedures, but I'll cut her some slack."

Harrison's cell phone vibrated. Checking it, he stood up from his chair. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant", he said, "I've got to get going. Detective Tran needs me to meet her down at Palin Correctional Center."