Chapter 4 - Case Closed

The squad, along with SWAT and the FBI, entered inside an abandon hospital basement.

"London PD!" Duke shouted as he used the battering ram to knock down the metal door.

Christopher and Fowler, along with SWAT team and FBI agent entered the room. The room was large, but also looked very old. The yellow wall paint of the entire room was all decaying and chipping away. It had dark black spots, that looked a lot like dried blood. The room looked like it was being held up by four thick circular poles. The only thing lighting up the room was three small incandescent light bulbs, one of them was flickering.

Inside the room were seven teenage girls laying on top of disgusting torn up mattresses. All their clothing was filthy, ripped, and their skin were all bruised up. Each of them had chains around one of their ankles. On the mattress in the far corner was a large heavy male person with long hair, wearing dark clothing, and spooning a girl in tears as he slept.

"Hey get up!" Duke shouted harshly as he ran to the corner to pull the man off the girl and slam him against the wall.

"Son of a- who the bloody damn hell are you!" The man curse after being woken from his sleep to see he was face planted against the wall.

"You're under arrest for rape and kidnap!"

Fowler placed her gun to her waist as she slower approached and lowered her body to the girl crying. She held her hands up.

"It's okay now. We're the police." She said softly, but the girl backed away from her a little. "You're safe now. It's okay, you're safe." She leaned closer to slightly touch her shoulder. She winced at the touch, but didn't move away from her.

Christopher looked over the other side of the room to see FBI and SWAT comforting the girls and cutting them out of their chains.

"I'll leave things here to you two." He gave them a quick nod before exiting in the room to be greeted by his partner.

"How many were in here?" Charlotte asked.

"Seven girls, and one pimp. You?"

"Fifteen girls, and seven pimps. So far twenty-two girls and eight bastards."

"Detectives!" Christopher and Charlotte both turned their heads to see an FBI agent coming towards them.

"We've searched the entire building, no signs of Zimmerman."

"Do you think he left before we got here?" Said Charlotte, but was interrupted by a girl screaming from the distance.

"If not, he is now." Christopher took a glance at her before sprinting towards the source of the scream.

He entered a flickering hallway, at the end was a locked door. He grunted before kicking the door open. Inside was a dark and empty room nothing inside. He pulled out his small black flashlight, revealing the room wasn't entirely empty.

An older middle-aged man, with short black hair that reached to the back of his neck, a goatee and moustache, and had pale white skin. He was wearing a brown canvas jacket, a black t-shirt, blue jeans, and heavy black boots. He was carrying a blonde-haired girl over his right shoulder and was trying to open a locked door.

It was Zimmerman.

"Stop!" Christopher shouted holding his gun out, along with his partner and the FBI and SWAT as they all entered the room.

"Hold it right there, Zimmerman!" Charlotte shouted.

Zimmerman turned around and pulled out his gun.

"Make one move and the girl dies." He pulled the girl down from his shoulder, holding her half nelson, and putting the gun to her head.

Christopher and the others held their breaths, trying to think of a strategy to save the girl's life.

"Put, the gun, down." Charlotte spoke out each word carefully.

Zimmerman wasn't backing down.

"If you kill her, we kill you." Christopher narrowed his eyes. "Is her life really worth yours?" He tried to sympathize with him.

Zimmerman glared at him for a couple of seconds before he threw the girl to the ground and sprinting out the door.

"Watch her, I'll go!" Christopher said to his partner quickly before he ran off after him.

It was now 3:21 AM, and the wind's increasing strength was more powerful in northern England, coming from the southwest direction. It aided the snow to become more violent. Making it harder for a person to keep their eyes open.

That didn't stop Christopher from pursuing the criminal. He wasn't far from him. Zimmerman ran off into the woods, leaving large deep imprints of his boots in the snow.

"Stop! Police!" He shouted running without any difficulties. His long legs and quick feet was his advantage.

Zimmerman turn to fire his gun, but slipped into the pile of snow during the process. Losing his weapon. The young detective took advantage of this to jump on top of it. They struggled and wrestled in each other's grips.

"Damn it!" Zimmerman struggled trying to reach for his gun, but was kicked away from him by Christopher. "Why you little." Zimmerman managed to free his right hand and punched him in the left eye.

"Ah!" Christopher cried in pain at the sudden contact, loosening his grip on Zimmerman.

"Back off you little git!" He shoved the teen to the snow.

Right when Zimmerman was about to pick up his gun, Christopher used his legs to knock him back to the ground.

"Not so fast, Zimmerman!" He quickly crawled over to pin him to the snow.

"Let go!" Zimmerman tolerated.

"Stop resisting!" Christopher grunted grabbing a hold of both of his wrists and cuffing them together.

A bright light and loud footsteps was getting closer towards them.

"Blackburn!" Said Crawford.

"Detective Blackburn!" Said an FBI agent.

"We're good here. I got him." Christopher gasped from the combine pain in his left eye and his body was covered in snow.

"We'll take it from here, detective." The FBI agent motioned two of his fingers for two agents to come forward and take Zimmerman with them.

Crawford walked past the FBI agent and place a hand on Christopher's right shoulder. "Blackburn, are you okay?"

Christopher had his left hand cover his left eye. "I'm fine, sir." He winced, bringing up his other hand to add more pressure to the injury.

"Are you sure, Christopher?" Crawford came forward.

"I'm fine, David. This is nothing compare to what I've been through back then. You of all people should know that." He waved it off like it was nothing with his right hand.

"Yeah, I know." Crawford nodded as he stared at him. He clicked his tongue, "I know I'm not a licensed paramedic like you, but I think you should add some ice on that. The last thing I need is to get in trouble with Fowler and Forrest for letting you get hurt, again." He wiped off the snow on the teenager's head and shoulders.

"I will Crawford, I will." Christopher chuckled at the memory of what happened prior.