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"Mark Hughes?" Al asked to the scrawny man who opened the front door. He held up a badge, "Chicago PD."
"That's me. What's this about?" Hughes stepped outside of his house and glanced from Burgess to Olinsky nervously, "Am I in some kind of trouble?"
"That depends on your answer," Al replied, "Can we come in?"
He nodded, "What's this about?" Hughes repeated, stepping back into his house and gesturing for the detectives to join him, "Is my wife okay?"
"Do you recognize this woman?" Burgess held up her cell phone with a picture of Erin. She and Olinsky stared down the man in front of them as he narrowed his eyes.
"I don't, I'm sorry. Should I know who this is?" Hughes pushed aside some of the kiddie toys on the floor, "Sorry about the mess."
"Her name is Erin Lindsay. She had several text messages and phone calls to a cell in your name over the last few days. And she's missing." Al glanced around the house. It certainly didn't look like a place where someone would hold someone captive, and Hughes certainly didn't seem like the type of guy who would have the stones to.
"Erin Lindsay?" Hughes furrowed his brow, "Oh yes – I'm an electrician. Erin and I spoke about installing a new television in her place. It was supposed to be a surprise, for her husband or something. We were texting to coordinate a time for her to let me in while he was out." Hughes paused, "She's missing?"
Al nodded grimly. "Where were you this morning?"
"I had a job downtown. I-I bought a coffee on the way there, and the guy who's house I worked on can vouch for me. Also, I can show you the texts with Ms. Lindsay." Hughes reached into his pocket and produced a cell phone. He scrolled through and held it out to Burgess.
"Checks out," she confirmed, "But to be safe, if you don't mind giving us the contact information of the job you were at earlier today, that would be great."
"Of course," Hughes replied, "Sorry to hear about Ms. Lindsay."
When Erin awoke again, the basement was even darker than before, if that was possible. She groaned, her head throbbing as she reached her hands up to rub her eyes. That was new. Charlie must have rebound her arms while she had been passed out. The bagel. He must have put something in the cream cheese, because after the first few bites, her memory was blank. By the way her body ached, he hadn't given her anything pain numbing like oxy or even heroin. Maybe it was chloroform. Her mind was foggy and she let out a cough, the dust from the basement irritating her lungs.
She wasn't sure how long she'd be down in the basement, the drugs having thrown a wrench in her ability to track the hours. The darkness of the basement indicated it was late at night, or very early in the morning, but she couldn't be sure. She coughed again as her eyes fell upon a glass of water resting beside her badge, her gun now missing.
Erin shuffled across the basement, tiny rocks from the gravely floor digging into her palms as she maneuvered her aching body toward the glass, almost crab-walking. She lifted her hands toward the glass, shivering as she felt the coolness on her fingertips. The water cleared her dry throat, the dust and dirt of the basement burning her throat and lungs. Erin let out a cough as she finished the last of the water, the dehydration, hunger and exhaustion settling in her bones.
She maneuvered herself back to the wall and rested tiredly against it. What she wouldn't do for a hot shower and her own bed right now. And her boyfriend. Erin let out a sigh as she toyed with the ends of her – Jay's – shirt. She was so glad she'd worn it today. Even in the depth of the basement, the shirt still smelled distinctly of Jay, and it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
There was something about him that no other boyfriend of Erin's ever had. Hank always said she left a string of broken hearts behind her since she was fifteen, but the truth was that none of those hearts ever came close to Jay's. He was kind, intelligent, sexy as hell, and he made her feel safe like no one else could. The only other person who ever made Erin feel safe was Hank. Someday when she got out of the godforsaken basement, she'd tell Jay that. She'd tell him that he was the only man who felt like family from the moment she'd laid eyes on him the day Hank paired them up in the bullpen. She'd tell Hank the same thing, that the only person who made her feel as safe as she did when she was with him, the man who'd taken her in and saved her life, was Jay Halstead.
The smile that almost played on her lips hurt, her lips cracked with dryness from dehydration and her cheek sore from the gag Charlie typically had too tightly across her face.
Miles away, Jay paced. The team had tried to convince him to go home, to get some rest, but he couldn't. He couldn't go back to their apartment, to their bed, while Erin was out there, alone. Voight had left for the night, unable to sit behind his desk in the hopes that something would turn up. With Erin missing, the entire unit was on edge. Jay had attempted to cool off in the locker room after Olinsky and Burgess returned empty handed from their conversation with Mark Hughes, but was met with a distraught Burgess, actively trying to fix her make up in the mirror.
He didn't the capacity to comfort her and instead stalked out of the locker room, intending to walk down the street to the nearest bar. Thankfully, Al caught him before he made it out of the district. After attempting to force some food and rest on the detective to no avail, Al resigned to allowing Jay to sit at his desk, working through his partner's case files throughout the night while he watched from his own desk, haunted by the memory of when Jay had been taken from Midway.
"Nothing from Area Central," Voight announced grimly, stalking through the bullpen on his way to his office. He had been up all night, unable to sleep with the thought of his detective, his daughter, missing somewhere in his city, or worse, "She's been missing for over twenty four hours now, and we've got nothing. And where are we at with details on this CI of Erin's, Landon Vanak?"
"He's in the wind. Place is empty, cell phone is dead," Ruzek folded his arms across his chest, "It's like he never existed."
"Well of course he existed, he kidnapped Erin!" Voight exploded, slamming a hand on Erin's empty desk and causing the sleep-deprived unit to look up from their work. "She's been gone twenty four hours and we've got nothing," he repeated, "We need to retrace her steps going back two years. Pull all complaints, arrests, anything. I want the name of anyone who would do this."
"Sarge, she's got a few missed calls from Bunny," Mouse piped up, "They're from a few weeks ago and it took me a while to track down the number, but-" He stopped as Voight turned for the exit wordlessly.
"I'll come with you," Jay decided, jumping up from his desk and following his boss out of the district, "Can't just sit here."
"Bunny," Voight barked as he entered the bar, the bell continuing to ring with the force at which he slammed the door, "We need to talk."
"Hank Voight. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Bunny placed a glass down on the bar, "What have I done this time?"
"I don't know," Hank replied simply. Jay stood by the door, arms folded against his chest. Just seeing the woman who constantly put Erin through the ringer had his blood just below boiling.
"Then what is this all about?" Bunny put her hands on her hips angrily, "You come into my place of work, say we need to talk and I haven't even done anything?"
"You're always into something, Bunny," Jay piped up, "We're looking for Erin."
Bunny looked from Jay to Hank, "What do you mean, 'looking for Erin'? I'd assume she's at work with you. I don't see my daughter very often, the two of you make good sure of that."
"She's missing," Hank informed her, "Hasn't been seen in over a day. We found her car with blood next to it and her cell phone smashed."
"What?" Bunny looked genuinely shocked, "Are you sure you're not overreacting, Hank? I know how you get when she goes out to blow off some steam. She might just be sleeping it off somewhere."
"He tells you we found blood on the ground and you chalk it up to blowing off steam?" Jay snapped, "Really, Bunny?"
"I know my daughter," she shot back, "And I know she's been workin' really hard, and that you two never give her any space, always trying to control her, tie her down. She used to have other friends before she met either of you. Maybe she's with them."
Jay opened his mouth to retort when Hank spoke first, "What other friends, Bunny?"
"I don't know their names," she replied, "Erin used to hang out with lots of different people. They'd go on road trips, stay out late. Kid stuff."
"You were too drugged up to remember how that 'kid stuff' ended," Hank growled, "That's not Erin anymore."
"One of Erin's old friends is behind this," Jay informed her, "That asshole, Landon. You heard from him?"
Bunny didn't immediately reply. "Don't lie Bunny, we'll find out the truth one way or another. Have you spoken to Landon?" Hank asked, "Don't make me ask again."
"I might have seen him in here, couple of nights ago," Bunny picked up another glass to dry, "Why would you think a nice boy like Landon would kidnap Erin? Not like he's all that big either. She could take him."
Jay let out an aspirated sigh, "What night was he here?"
"Last Wednesday. Him and some buddies," Bunny replied, "I don't have any security cameras, but I'm sure the date is all you need to follow whatever delusional theory Hank has."
"Don't leave town." Hank turned for the exit, "Let's go, Halstead."
Jay wordlessly followed, unable to bid the mother of his girlfriend goodbye.
"Pull anything you can within a five-block radius around Bunny's bar from last Wednesday," Hank ordered into his cell as he drove along the street, "Talk to your CIs. See if anyone can name the people that were at the bar with Landon."
"There's got to be something she's not telling us," Jay mused, rubbing his hand on his stubbly cheek, "She must know something. Who those guys are."
"It's always the same with Bunny. Deny, deny, deny until it comes back on her." Hank took a hard right turn, gripping the steering wheel tightly, "If this ends up being her fault, I won't be surprised."
"Wake up," Charlie demanded, kicking Erin's foot as he attempted to rise her, "Erin, wake up."
She dragged her eyes open, her mind feeling incredibly foggy yet again. Erin opened her mouth and realized the gag had been replaced. She let out a groan, her body aching from the hours on the floor and looked up at her captor with glazed eyes. "We're making a movie today," he gestured to a video camera that sat on a stool across the basement, "Going to send it to your old man Voight and your boy toy Halstead."
Erin shook her head, glancing at the camera and then to Charlie. "C'mon now, Erin. I know you're always down for the camera." He reached out and cupped her face with his gruff palm, "Are you ready? We're already rolling."
She shook her head again and forced her body to kick her bound legs, trying to get Charlie in the shin. "Oh, that wasn't very nice," he taunted, slapping her across the face. She tried not to whimper but couldn't help it. Charlie hit her again and the basement spun. "We're going to put on a little show for the men in your life."
Erin's head lolled to the side, the gag at her teeth tasting salty on her tongue as she fought to keep her eyes open, for Jay, for Hank. "You see your girl here, Halstead?" Charlie gestured to Erin while maintaining eye contact with the video camera, "She's mine. She's always been mine." He reached out and caressed Erin's bruised cheek with his knuckles.
She grunted and pulled back, attempting to speak through the gag, "Shh, Erin," he cooed, grabbing her arm forcefully, "I want Halstead to see what I'm going to do to you." Charlie placed a hand on her breast, "Just like old times."
Erin squeaked and attempted to crawl away, her bound ankles and wrists making the task difficult. She pushed herself up against the concrete wall and shook her head, "Stop!" she attempted, her voice garbled through the cloth, "Don't touch me."
"Touch you?" Charlie taunted, stepping over Erin's body, "Okay, Erin, if that's what you want."
"No!" She turned her body toward the wall, "No, no."
"Not yet then," he chuckled, facing the camera again, "Later. We're going to have some fun first. We have all the time in the world, Erin. Nobody's going to find us."
"Fuck you, Charlie," Erin snarled through the gag, her eyes darkening as her captor spoke to the camera. Feeling his hands on her body had cleared her head enough to be incredibly pissed off at her current situation.
"What's that?" He turned to Erin, eyes wild with rage, "What was that?" He grabbed at the cloth gag, jerking her already aching head forward.
"I said, fuck you, Charlie," Erin repeated, "For drugging me and keeping me down here and for all the ways you manipulated me when I was just a fucking kid."
Charlie raised his eyebrows in surprise, "Well, there's the Erin I know." He smiled, "Feisty, brave, bitchy as hell." He drew his foot back and kicked her directly in the stomach.
She gasped out in pain, darkness closing in around her eyes as she struggled to get a breath in, "Fuck," Erin hissed, curling into herself but determined not to cry. She wouldn't let him break her, not back then and certainly not today.
"Let's have you take another sleep, huh?" Charlie raised a hand and smacked her across the cheek. Erin whimpered at the contact, her whole body screaming in protest. He pulled out a rag from his pocket and tied it around her face as she shook her head, trying with all her might to avoid his hands on her.
"Stop it," she tried as he placed his hands around her neck, "I'll stop, I'll stop."
"Good," Charlie replied, tying the gag around her lips. Almost immediately Erin felt dizzy. Then foggy. And then everything was black.
"Halstead, a package arrived for you downstairs," Platt informed him, standing at the top of the steps with her arms folded across her chest. "Go get it."
Jay pushed himself up from his desk and wordlessly made his way downstairs, barely acknowledging his superior. "Any word on Lindsay?" Platt asked more gently to the rest of the unit in the bullpen.
Atwater shook his head, "We're combing through pod footage around the location where she was taken and her mother's bar now, trying to track this guy. Waiting on a warrant for Landon's apartment."
She nodded solemnly, "I'll shake that tree again. You tell me if you hear anything, you got it?"
Atwater nodded in response, "Will do Sarge, will do."
"It's a flashdrive," Jay announced, quickly marching up the steps and making a beeline for his desk, "It came in this box," he thrust it at Ruzek before jamming the device into the side of his computer.
"Who is it from?" Hank folded his arms across his chest as he watched the detective tap the side of the computer incessantly, as if banging on it would make the screen load faster.
"No idea. There was no note," Jay replied, "Come on." He shook the keyboard, urging the computer to load.
"And you just plugged it in?" Mouse squeaked, "It-it could be malware."
"It could be a lead," he retorted, the thought that the drive could contain malware having never crossed his mind.
"Too late now," Hank scoffed, about to turn from the computer when he saw the familiar face of his detective, his daughter, fill Jay's screen.
"Erin," Jay breathed, the still image of his partner simultaneously filling him with relief and dread. On one hand, she was alive. On the other, she was still missing.
"Hit play," Mouse instructed, stating the obvious.
"I got it," Jay shot back, clicking on the video still and holding his breath.
"My god," Hank choked out as the face of Charlie Pugliese emerged in front of his passed out detective.
"Sergeant Voight," Charlie smirked to the camera, "We meet again. Under not so different circumstances, too. Erin here," he gestured to the detective who was slumped against the wall, "Well, she's been bad. And of course you know this. When you busted her all those years ago, you didn't know how much trouble she was in or how much trouble she would cause. And not a day goes by that I don't remember what you did to me, or what she did to me, not once but so many times. There have been so many injustices, Sergeant. And now, I'm here to right some of those wrongs."
The police in the room were silent as the camera showed Charlie turning toward Erin, "Oh and Jay? De-tect-ive Halstead?" He looked back at the camera, "I'm going to have your girl. Just like old times."
Jay emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet, bracing himself on the sides of the stall with his hands. He'd struggled through watching the entire video, from Charlie's address to Voight while Erin was unconscious in the background, to her struggling against him, trying to be strong. He could tell from her eyes just how scared she was, even though his partner was doing her best to be brave.
Watching another man's hands on his girl while she struggled filled him with a rage unmatched by anything he'd ever known, while simultaneously twisting his stomach into a thousand knots. As soon as the camera had cut out he had bolted from the bullpen and made a beeline for the bathroom, barely able to keep down the coffee he'd been consuming like it was his lifeline. He hadn't eaten anything since the cinnamon raisin bagel from yesterday morning. Erin's coffee and bagel sat untouched on her desk, a bleak reminder that she'd been missing over twenty-four hours.
His stomach turned again, the fact that he hadn't been home, slept or really eaten in the hours Erin had been missing taking a toll on his body, as well as his psyche. The coffee he had downed earlier made an unfortunate reappearance as he coughed, trying to compose himself. Erin needed him to find her.
"Halstead," Voight called into the empty locker room, "You in here?"
"Just a minute, Sarge," Jay managed, flushing the toilet and quickly pressing his face against the cold metal stall to ground himself. He took a breath and opened the stall door, willing himself not to vomit again.
"You need to eat something," the sergeant instructed, leaning against the bathroom door with his arms folded across his chest, "You're no good to anyone, and especially not Erin, if you're too weak to do anything, got it?"
Jay barely nodded. "This isn't your fault." Voight's tone softened as he took in the distraught detective in front him, "You know that, right?"
"What?" Jay raised his eyebrows, "Why-why are you telling me this?"
"Because I need you to hear it. Erin trusted this guy. She was going to meet with him no matter what you said."
"I-I could have gone with her," Jay started, "I should have insisted-"
"And how do you think that would have gone for you, huh?" Voight offered a wistful half-smile, "She'd have told you to fuck off, and then gone anyway. There was no stopping this, Jay. All we can do now is get her back, and be there for her when she's ready."
"I love her," Jay blurted out, unable to keep it in any longer, "And seeing that, not being there for her, it's killing me."
"I know, kid," Voight put a hand on his detective's shoulder, "Trust me, I do. I know how much she means to you, and boy, do I know how much you mean to her. There isn't anyone she's talked about more in all the years I've known her. We're going to get our girl back, you hear me?"
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