One of the most difficult and challenging criminals to catch are those that are clever, calculating, psychotic and absolutely sadistic. Those are the criminals who can go months to years without being caught, without so much as leaving a lead for police to follow and the cockiness that suddenly starts to develop in their beings because of that is what screws them over; it's what will eventually lead them to slip up and get caught. It was just a matter of waiting it out –waiting for the inevitable moment that their psychosis and their manipulation of the police boil over and lead to their capture and inevitable justice that hopefully follows. It has been a total of seven weeks since they received the case, six weeks since Tyler joined their unit to temporarily work together on the case and six weeks of pregnancy for Erin. That's a little over a month for her –almost two months in total, and she still hasn't said anything to Jay. For her, the opportunity was never right; this was big, this was life-changing, she wanted to tell her husband in the best way possible.
The opened case files of Linda Foster –their third Chicago victim- sat in front of her. She read each line of information and evidence twice –once to just read it and twice to analyze it. There was nothing new, there was nothing overlooked. However for Erin, the file felt new to her; as an expectant parent she read it with opened and biased eyes, reading Linda's husband's statement regarding them trying to work through the holes in their marriage and his wife sadly being killed before reunification could occur was heartbreaking, and it was even more saddening that she not only left behind her husband, but two kids –teenagers as the written ages in the file state- behind.
Lindsay wasn't even a mother yet and her heart went out to Linda, her husband and their two kids. She couldn't imagine breaking the news to her future children about her husband's –their dad's- death. That's not something she feels equipped to do and able to handle. She couldn't even imagine the same being done vice versa; if Jay's the one who has to break the news of her death to their kids –it's unimaginable. And even if she's not hear to fully experience or witness Jay breaking the news to her kids, just the thought that it's possible, that it really could happen, especially with their chosen career path has her on edge, has her jittering and definitely worried. As a pregnant woman –who is six weeks, pushing seven- she knows there's barely a bump underneath her shirt yet she finds comfort in setting her hand down upon it. It's small and unnoticeable and her desk that she sits behind hides her hand from public view. It's the first time she acknowledges it without panicking and freaking out over how she's going to tell her husband. It's the first time her hand touches it that causes her to actually relax and think about the positive –the future life that she's going to bring into the world.
"Are you okay?"
She shuts the file almost guiltily, "I'm fine." Erin looks up to see Jay holding two mugs of coffee –one for himself and one for her. Her hand is no longer settled on her tummy and she finds relief in knowing that Jay didn't notice. If anything, she had plans to play it off as nausea and queasiness –those symptoms still bothered her so it wouldn't be a total lie.
"It looks like we're pulling another all-nighter; I think you're going to need this. I made you coffee," he says, fanning the steam from her cup, "and yes, I put enough cream and sugar in it."
"I'm trying to cut back on my coffee intake," instead of grabbing the mug, she simply pushes it away. The actual smell and aroma flying up her nostrils was getting to her. She squirmed in her seat but kept her face stoic and expressionless in order to hide the ache of queasiness in her stomach. Over these last few weeks, she has gotten better with hiding her pregnancy symptoms. She waited out the nausea and once it passed, she relaxed and focused back in on the moment; she focused back in on the present, the present in the moment that Jay has his hand pressed against her forehead, "What are you doing?" She laughs to hide the obvious confusion.
"I think you may have caught something; you never refuse coffee," he remarked, his hand gently sliding down to feel the side of her face, "I know you're exhausted. If last night didn't wear you out, I don't know what would."
She smacked his hand away the second her cheeks turned an embarrassing shade of red, "Our sex life isn't work conversation."
"It is if it's with my wife," a wink of the eye follows his retort.
Erin looked around the room to ensure herself that no one was watching or listening in to their conversation. She saw everyone currently occupied; it was a relief. Erin used the arms of her swivel chair to stand up, and she leaned forward to grab her nearly empty water bottle, "I'm going to go fill up my water bottle." She winks. It's an excuse to leave –to go somewhere that's semi-private. Since she found out about her pregnancy, it was normal for her to make frequent trips to the water fountain –she needed to stay hydrated as recommended by doctor's orders. It wasn't weird and out of character for her to go, so she used that as an excuse to get him to come along. She took his cup of coffee from his hands and set it down onto her desk; she needed his hands empty. They were going to be preoccupied for a moment.
"You're definitely staying hydrated."
He doesn't catch on to her suggestion and she's forced to elaborate in a suggestive hint type of way, "Maybe I'll see you at the fountain, maybe I won't." Her dimples flash as she smiles flirtatiously. It would definitely be a buzzkill if he didn't. Fortunately for the both of them, he does get it and three minutes after Erin walks away, he follows.
Each member of the team is distracted; they're paying no attention to Halstead and Lindsay, and they don't even realize they left the bullpen. Dawson's attention is absorbed by the whiteboard; he can't help but feel like there's another connection that they're overlooking. His arms are crossed and his hands cuff his elbows as he paces the short distance in front of the evidence board. Burgess and Atwater are both sitting in chairs –watching him pace- as they throw ideas and possible scenarios his way.
"There may be another connection besides the nightclub that links our victims together," Antonio added to the other scenarios that Kevin and Kim posed just moments before he spoke.
"I disagree," Burgess affirmed, shaking her head in dispute, "the club is the main and only connection between them besides their killer."
"…no Dawson has a point," Kevin refuted.
As Burgess, Atwater and Dawson disputed the connection between their victims, Ruzek sat at his desk, searching through missing persons in Chicago to see if they match the description of the previous victims. He managed to find six opened missing cases of women who match the description of their deceased victims however the other evidence involved in their disappearance doesn't match up. Those women have nothing to do with their current case.
"This is stressful" Ruzek groans, slamming down the unfinished case file of their assailant; every piece of solid evidence they learn about him, they stick into the folder. It's thin –they barely know anything. He shuts down his computer next, "Seriously, how are we supposed to catch this guy if he leaves nothing behind? How is he so good at covering his trail?"
"I found something!" Mouse shouts before anyone could respond to Ruzek's complaints. He jumps to his feet, runs through Erin and Jay as they return from the water fountain in his haste to approach and knock on Voight's office door.
Erin sets her empty water bottle down onto her desk –she had forgotten to actually fill it up; luckily everyone was too focused on whatever Mouse has discovered to notice. Mouse knocks and knocks until the door is finally swung open, revealing a confused and bewildered Voight.
"I found something sir," Mouse retreats back to his desk, waving for his boss to follow.
"What is it?"
He has the entire team's attention. Erin is tugging on her shirt, adjusting it and making sure it's straight as Mouse turns his computer to face them, "I found two women who were murdered in Indianapolis before the four women in Chicago were killed. They match the physical description of our victims here, they were found with missing body parts with pink roses found either on them or around them. I'm pretty positive that he killed these women too."
Voight leans forward and squints as his eyes adjust to the brightness on the computer screen, "Lucy Grant; she was 19 and could possibly be his first official victim. She was a waitress."
"And he pulled out all of her teeth," Mouse informed the team.
"Shelby Ward," Voight read the next name off the screen, "she's 25 and is the second victim."
Mouse turned the screen back into its normal position, "her nose was carved off."
"What was her profession?" Tyler questions, making his presence known; he reaches the top stair after listening in on the entire case update.
"…she was a cop," Mouse solemnly whispers; cop killings were always extra hard. Even though she was in Indiana, she was still one of them.
"Good job on the discovery," Voight pats the computer tech's shoulder, giving him a wide and proud smile that is reserved only for those who finds the metaphorical needle in a haystack.
Tyler walked over to join the rest of the team; they're all staring at the uploaded photos of Lucy Grant and Shelby Ward. He maneuvers through the team to lean forward and take a good look at the DMV photos of the two Indianapolis victims, "You guys finally prove you know how to do your jobs," Tyler uses each of his hands to pat the back of the detectives who is nearest to him –the detectives being Lindsay and Ruzek, "It only took six weeks, but hey, who's counting?"
"Weren't you here to help us? So far you have given us no help," Halstead retorts, staring at Tyler's hand resting against his wife's lower back.
"I gave you the case files."
Jay leaned over and casually swatted the man's hand away as he responded, "…which we can't really use because we have no witnesses backing up the information you gave." His hand took over the place Tyler's hand once set and without anyone noticing what just transpired between the two Halstead stole a kiss against the side of his wife's head. Erin's hand settled on the area her husband just pecked; her eyes glance to the side and confusedly eye him.
Tyler remarked, "My word should be enough. I can vouch for them," his eyes roll at Jay's argument and his attempt to 'claim' Erin by unexpectedly kissing her; Tyler didn't care. He liked a challenge, he liked games and he especially liked her.
"Anyway," Mouse spoke up, gearing the conversation back onto topic, "I contacted the Indianapolis police department and their sergeant is supposed to call you Voight either sometime today or tomorrow to fill you in completely on the two cases, now what we do know besides their names, ages and careers is Lucy and Shelby had both visited the same nightclub, and Lucy was found four days afterwards and Shelby was killed two days after visiting the club. They were killed one month apart from each other," Mouse is glancing between each member of the team, "The two cases have been recently closed after they reached a dead end."
"Good job Mouse. You've been working yourself dry these past few weeks." Voight asserted, giving the younger man a nod of affirmation, "You can head home. You can come back and start fresh tomorrow. And when you get in, I need you to finish combing through the club's surveillance footage to find us something else we can use to identify him."
"Are you sure? I don't mind staying a little longer."
"Let us follow the trail you provided and if we need you we'll call."
It doesn't take long for Mouse to nod in agreement, grab his jacket and then leave. He was absolutely exhausted; he had devoted most of his time to find some sort of lead for the team to follow up on. Once Mouse departs down the stairs, Voight hears his desk phone ring, and he automatically knows it has to be the Indianapolis police; for one, he wasn't expecting any calls and two, if someone did call, they didn't have his direct phone line –they would call the front desk who would patch it through to Mouse's desk phone. Mouse gave the Indianapolis police department Voight's own office number to cut out the middleman. Before jogging into his office to answer the call in private, Hank ruffled the top of Erin's head, "You did well too kid." He commended, chuckling heavily when she swatted his hand out of her hair, "Getting us to look at other states to see if our perpetrator struck somewhere else first was a good idea." Hank steps back and begins heading towards his office, "stay here and push your dinner break back a few hours until I get off the phone and catch you all up to speed."
The moment Voight disappeared into his office, Olinsky walked over to the whiteboard and lifted the dry-erase marker. He writes down the names of their two Indianapolis victims and underneath their names, he writes what little information they knew about them. As he writes down Lucy Grant's age, he hears Lindsay pose a question from behind him, "Do you think they were the first two or there's more?"
"I think it's safe to say, they're the first two," Olinsky replied, sticking the top back onto the marker, "Mouse has spent weeks going state by state in search of other possible victims. He would have found something or said something otherwise."
Tyler chuckled in doubt, "Mouse is one man and its fifty states, not including Washington D.C. Please excuse my obvious disbelief in his ability to check each state in the allotted time."
"It's been six weeks Tyler," Halstead defended his closest friend, "and Mouse knows how to do his job. He's one of the best. Trust me when I say, he would have found and said something if there was something to find and say. There's nothing else out there in the other states! And he has done more for this investigation than anyone, so until you bring us evidence that is actually useful, how about you stop questioning my friend who's actually doing his job?!"
Erin is the only one in the room who picks up on the obvious battle of masculinity between her husband and Tyler; both wanting to be right, but knowing that it's impossible. One is obviously right and the other is wrong. She brushes her shoulder against her husband –signaling for him to calm down and relax; she wants him to stop letting Tyler get to him. When Halstead looks at her, he reads the message she's trying to deliver; the message to chill out. It's not always what you say, but how you said it, and Halstead's words pierced through the quiet bullpen. The team may have picked up on it, but they showed no signs it. Erin gave her husband one last look; a hopeful one that pleaded with him to just try and be civil. He rolls his eyes –obviously having no intention of doing as she requests. And without giving her husband another warning look, she walks over to lean against the corner edge of her desk, "So he started out in Indiana and somehow ended up here in Illinois." She focuses the conversation –or lack thereof- back on topic, on what really matters and that's solving this case.
Kim takes a seat in her desk chair and asks, "Was he born and raised in Indiana or did he just move there and start killing?" Her fingers intertwine as her hands rest above her desk.
"I hate the fact that we have more questions than answers," Ruzek mumbled, kicking a small trashcan to the side –his obvious frustration boiling over to the point where it starts seeping into his actions, and the act of him kicking an inanimate object away from him.
"Come on," Tyler drawled out, walking over to Ruzek, "I thought you guys were given the case because you're one of the best units," he throws his arms around Adam's shoulders, and the other detective simply steps away from his embrace, "You're a challenge"
"We're a challenge?" Ruzek repeats in confusion.
"Scratch that from the argument," Tyler chuckles, waving away his earlier statement, "Look, I heard the best about the Intelligence unit, show me that it wasn't all just talk."
Lindsay did agree with Detective West; they were one of the best units. Their ability to solve and close cases in comparison to other units was astounding. He was right. She wouldn't verbally divulge it to him because his ego was way too large to handle her admittance without her having to hear any annoying comments or suffer from any irritating repercussions. Tyler was a person who couldn't handle compliments because they would go straight to his head. She did agree with him, the Intelligence unit had a great rep, and they had to prove that; they had to solve this case to shut his smugness up and to get justice for the victims.
She's ready for the all-nighter they all agreed to pull. And because she's still working herself day after day, she has to stay hydrated –doctor's orders. She has to drink double the amount of water –not only for her, but for the baby too. When the team surrounded the whiteboard, staring at it as if the answer or some clue would just pop up in their head right away, she decided to use that as her opportunity to go refill up her water bottle that she was too distracted to fill up earlier. It was a welcomed distraction, hint the reason why she wasn't upset about it, but it was a distraction nonetheless that could have been spent doing something more productive.
"I'm just going to go actually fill up my water bottle this time," she announces to no one in particular, but when Tyler steps away from the marker board she assumes he's the only one who heard and paid attention to what she said, especially when he grabs his own empty and brand new water bottle and follows her.
"You know," she starts the second he catches up to her, "that wasn't an invitation for company."
"I know, I just needed some advice and I didn't want the others to hear."
"Okay, what about?"
"…a girl."
She started filling her bottle, but stopped the second he answered her question. He needed advice about a girl. He came to her –a simple acquaintance- for advice about a girl. The water continued to pour but it was all missing the opening of her water bottle; she wasn't focused on aiming it and keeping the bottle situated underneath the pouring water. Erin was focused and drawn to Tyler's words; he was definitely a character and she was curious about the girl who had caught Detective West's attention, "So you found someone?" The corners of her mouth pull at her lips and her dimples start to pierce her cheeks in delight.
"You can say that."
"What's the problem then?" She turns back to resume filling up her bottle.
"I don't think she's interested."
"Well then there's not much you can do about it."
"…she's not interested in what she thinks she knows about me," Tyler clarified, stepping up to the water fountain the second she finishes, "She doesn't know the real me."
"Well then it's up to you to show her. Be you; be the real you," Erin advises, stepping back to allow him to fill his bottle, "You might as well be yourself because you'll get judged regardless."
"I don't know. I keep saying the wrong thing."
"Someone said it best Tyler; girls are like phones. We love to be held and talked to but if you press the wrong button you will be disconnected," she quoted some unknown author to the best of her ability as she watches his bottle fill, "My advice to you would be think before you speak. I know how confident and arrogant you can be."
"I'll try not to take offense."
"It's constructive criticism," Erin countered, earning a dramatic laugh from Tyler.
Erin overlooked the mocking tone in his laughter and clasped both hands around her water bottle. She used her side teeth and tugged onto the cap of her bottle, taking a sip right after loosening the nozzle. The second the cap came unloose, she gulped down a few satisfying sips. She tilts her head back and lifts her bottle further up as she quenches her insatiable thirst, "Erin," Tyler sighs, stepping away from the fountain and approaching her, "you make being perfect look so easy." They're practically touching –they're standing toe to toe- centimeters away from being chest to chest as he smiles at her.
"Trust me, I'm not perfect; I'm not even close."
"I can't tell."
"Tell me about her," Erin orders, steering the conversation back onto Tyler's mystery girl, "Tell me about the lucky lady who caught your eye."
"Let's do it over coffee; we've been here for hours and I need an energy boost." He offers her his hand, but she shakes her head to decline, "This water won't give me the energy I need."
"I'll go with you to make it but I don't want any."
"I don't know how you're surviving without it, but okay. It's your loss."
Tyler leads the way and Erin follows closely behind. The team is no longer surrounding the board. They're all separated –at their desks- working on the case. Once she finished talking with Tyler, she has every intention of getting back to it. He was a constant distraction; he was keeping her from doing her job. And Lindsay desperately wanted to get back to work, but Tyler was an interesting character, and her mind would rather focus on his girl trouble than on a case with six victims. Just the thought of the case made her sad and she didn't want to feel like that. She could blame it on the pregnancy hormones, but whatever it was, when she thought about it, she either wanted to cry out of sadness or yell out of anger. Those women didn't deserve death, and because of that, it didn't matter what she felt or why she felt it; regardless of her feelings, she needed to get back to work. So once Tyler makes his coffee, she's heading back out to throw herself into the endless amount of paperwork and dead ends that this case seems to consist of greatly. Most of their leads led to nowhere or no one, this was the biggest one they had, and the victims deserved for it to be investigated fully.
As Detective West goes to make his coffee, Erin settles herself in a hard chair at the table while sipping on her water. She listens to him talk about this girl. He sounds drawn and attached to her. He sounds mesmerized and as if he's in love. She has Tyler wrapped around her finger and the detective knew it and found no problem with it. Her appearance; beautiful and all around what he envisioned for himself. He described her personality; fierce, confident, independent, empathetic and most importantly, perfect. As he glanced at Erin from over his shoulder, he could tell the words he used to describe his mystery girl registered in her mind, but unbeknownst to her, she never made the connection between his crush and her –the connection being they're the same person. His words could have literally described any female. He kept broad for a reason.
"I just really want this relationship to work," Tyler admits, turning to face her completely as he stirs his coffee.
"You have to try. You have to put in effort," Erin replies, standing from her seat and approaching him, "You need to tell her how you feel."
It was kind of ironic; she's giving him advice on how he can sweep her off her feet. She's telling him what to do and how to go about taking a married woman from her husband. Tyler smiled at the irony of it, but his smile gleamed at the challenge within it. Following her advice could do him no wrong. Erin leaves her opened bottle onto the table as she rises from her seat, "Fight for her; trust me when I say it'll be totally worth it," she advises, and with each sentence, she takes a step closer, "Sometimes I wake up and nothing in my life makes any sense," Erin admits; the vulnerability in her words shining through her normal confidence, "but then I see my wedding ring or I hear my husband's voice or the thought of him comes to mind and I realize what matters. I realize that life doesn't have to make sense as long as I have him by my side."
"I want to fight for her. I want to be with her."
"You should-"
"I sense a but coming," he interrupts; his coffee long forgotten as he sits it upon the counter.
She kindly grabs his shoulder and turns him to face her, "You're correct," they stare eye to eye; his eyes directed downwards to account for her shorter stature, "I was going to say that you should fight for her, let her know the real you and don't give up unless she makes it clear to you that she's not interested. Tyler, I'm serious, don't seek something from someone who doesn't have the capacity to give it. Do you understand?"
"Yeah," he answers, flashing her a mock smile, "I'm not perfect though and she is." The smile on his face falters and it immediately softens Erin's heart; she actually feels bad for him.
"You have to stop thinking people are perfect."
"I've waited my entire life to find the perfect girl. I can't deal with imperfections."
She lightly squeezes his shoulder; he can barely feel the movement of her fingers against his body as they move against his arm, "…then you can't deal with dating; humans are imperfect –it's practically synonymous."
"I know the perfect girl exists," he assertively responds; she can hear the irritation in his voice.
"There's no such thing as a perfect person;" Lindsay rebuttals, immediately removing her hand from his shoulder the moment his eyes settled onto it; staring at the movement of her fingers as it reassuringly squeezed his shoulder; staring at it as if it were more than a friendly shoulder rub of comfort, "some people just suck less than others, but there's no such thing as perfection in a person, and until you realize that you're going to continue to get hurt."
"Trust me Erin, she's perfect and is definitely worth the fight. I've known her for some time and if I haven't spotted any imperfections yet, I probably won't at all. Now, let's drop it." He feels personally insulted by Erin's insistence that the woman he has feelings for –being herself- is not perfect –is far from it actually- and that he should accept that.
She has no more rebuttals; it's like talking to a wall. Nothing she says is going to transmit to him. He has it in his mind that the perfect girl is out there and the only way for him to experience the truth is to search for her and the inevitable heartbreak that will happen countless amount of times –it'll happen until he realizes that no one is perfect and love comes from realizing that and loving them and their imperfections anyway. Without another word, Erin nods and steps back to grab her water bottle; she needs to get back to work anyway so now was as good a time as any to end the conversation and head back out into the bullpen.
"Sorry to interrupt," Burgess interjected and smiling the second she hears a relieved sigh come from Erin, "I was just coming to tell you that Voight is finishing up his phone call." Lindsay gratefully pats Kim's back as she squeezes herself through the small opening Burgess left between herself and the door frame. As she slides through, she meets her husband's eyes; he's sitting behind his desk watching her, and all she can do in response to his focused orbs is smile. Jay's eyes pull away from her to watch Tyler leave the breakroom next, holding his hot cup of coffee. Tyler doesn't have a desk or a chair; he simply spends his time pacing up and down the aisle of the bullpen or leaning against the edge of another detective's desk.
Halstead is intrigued –he's curious to know what Erin and Tyler talked about, he's interested in knowing why Tyler chose to lean against Antonio's desk instead of Lindsay's like he usually does, and he's fascinated in finding out why they're hardly looking in each other's direction. Jay smirked; knowing whatever unhealthy pseudo-friendship they had going on was inevitably going to meet its downfall. The guy had a crush on a loyal woman; no matter how platonic one side of the friendship wanted to keep it, if both sides weren't in it for the same reasons, it was bound to go downhill. Jay didn't know the extent of whatever disagreement they had, but he could only cross his fingers and hope that it was big enough to halt whatever type of friendship they had developing. And when he opens his mouth to call his wife over –to pry and question what has Tyler in a bad mood, his unspoken words are interrupted by Voight's office door swinging open and the sergeant walking out of it seconds later.
"The sergeant is going to fax over their files," Voight starts, grabbing Mouse's empty desk chair and swinging it towards Tyler, "sit." The man sitting on the edge of Antonio's desk stands, balances his coffee in one hand and takes a seat in the swivel chair as Hank continues, "The sergeant filled me in on our two Indianapolis victims. We are already aware that Lucy Grant was a waitress and her teeth were pulled out before being killed. No other signs of being tormented, but she was killed four days after visiting the nightclub. If she was being tormented and stalked, she never told anyone –not even the police. And we also know that Shelby Ward was a cop and her nose was cut off; she wasn't tormented either, and she was found dead two days after visiting the club," Voight presses his lips together and sighs, "Lucy Grant is our first victim. The sergeant and I were thinking she could be the lead we need to identify him."
Ruzek cleared his throat, "Why did he take her teeth?"
"We only talked about him taking parts of them as souvenirs, but we never discussed it further," Voight responded, tucking his hands into his front pockets as he began slowly walking up and down the aisle between the row of desks.
"Why those specific parts though?" Olinsky brought up; he's still standing by the marker board, his eyes never once leaving it, "Why Lucy's teeth? Shelby's nose? Amanda's breasts? Linda's fingers? Claire's hair? And Michelle's lips and tongue? Why those specific parts?"
"Could be to remind him of what he's done?" Halstead casually mentioned, leaning back in his seat as his eyes moved from Lindsay to Voight the second he cleared his throat to speak next.
"It could be, but why not take the same body part?"
A brief silence falls over the room; it's dark outside and not one detective has thoughts of leaving anytime soon. Mouse's discovery had led them this far; they wanted to talk the case out and get somewhere in their investigation before calling it a night. Voight scans the room; each detective is thinking, and he's waiting for someone to offer some other possible scenario as to why he could take body parts. The one Jay offered was good, but they needed everything laid out in order to discuss each one through. So when Atwater raises his hand, Hank gladly points to him, "What if he's making a woman?"
Olinsky's eyebrows furrow in disgust, "Making a woman? Like his own version of a girlfriend?"
"Yeah," Kevin nods.
"It's definitely a thought for this sicko," Voight doesn't want to turn away any idea; if someone could think of it, then it's possible that their perpetrator thought of it, "What else?"
Halstead leans back and props his feet up onto the side of his desk; crossing one ankle over the other, he gears the conversation towards their second victim, "The cop: Shelby Ward. Why her? I feel like that's risky for him. And he's smart; he wouldn't take unnecessary risks."
"It could be why he left Indianapolis. She was his last victim before coming to Chicago. He left Indiana for a reason and maybe that's it," It's Erin's first time speaking up since leaving the breakroom with Tyler; Jay doesn't swivel his chair to face forward, he just turns his head.
"Good point Erin," Tyler asserts, nodding in Erin's direction while earning an eye roll from Jay.
"What do you think Detective West?" Voight turns to their newest detective, arms crossed over his chest the second he catches a subtle wink of the eye geared towards Lindsay, "You're not here to just wink and pat my detectives on the back while they work. You're here to help too."
"I think Erin's right," Detective West spoke up smiling confidently as each detective turned to face him, "I think killing a cop scared him."
The team waited to see if Tyler had any more to say, but when he made no effort to continue speaking, Erin rose from her seat to gear the attention back onto her, "What else did the sergeant say? Is there anything else you can tell us about Ms. Ward?"
"The sergeant said that Shelby Ward was undercover and two days later was found strangled in a garden with her nose missing."
"Where was she seen last?"
"…a nightclub."
Antonio muttered, "He seems to have those in common."
"She was surrounded by pink roses?" Erin questioned, walking around her desk.
"Yes," Hank answers.
She briefly thought to herself –piecing each word and clue of Shelby's death together before whipping her head up and staring wide-eyed at Hank; Lindsay posed further questions, "Could he have killed her after finding out she was undercover? Could the perpetrator taking her nose have something to do with that? Her nose could possibly symbolize something."
Atwater chimed in, "Betrayal?"
"Yeah, maybe; it's definitely possible. He meets her in a nightclub and they hit it off and he starts sending her random gifts and following her to places and maybe he followed her to work one day," Erin hypothesized, tapping her foot anxiously against the tiled floor.
"He took her nose because she's a cop?" Voight repeated her earlier statement in thought.
"He took her nose because she was being nosey," Erin reiterated, approaching her boss, "In his head, she was putting her nose in his business. She was investigating Lucy's death and maybe she was getting close."
"Or maybe she wasn't."
Everyone turns to face Detective West after his interruption; Kim prodded him for further explanation, "What do you mean Tyler?"
"Maybe she wasn't getting close and he killed her because he felt betrayed like Kevin said."
It was all speculation –everything said and discussed was an assumption. There were no hard facts and evidence to back it up. He didn't know what the file the Indianapolis police are sending over would consist of, but he hoped that with their fresh eyes looking at it, they would see something –anything that would lead to an arrest. Voight takes advantage of the silence as he begins walking back towards his office, "I'm going to call the sergeant back; I have a few follow up questions based off of what we just discussed. Olinsky," he turns to his oldest friend, "I want you to get into contact with Shelby Ward's team and find out everything; it's possible that she never made the connection that the man she was seeing in her personal life was the same man she was investigating in her professional life. Atwater," he calls, awaiting for Kevin to look up and receive orders, "I want you to contact Lucy Grant's family and Burgess," he snaps his fingers in her direction, "I want you to contact Shelby's family; it has been months –almost a year- since their loved one's death and they may remember something, and the questions you two ask may be different than the ones asked by the Indianapolis police months ago." After receiving orders, the three detectives separated to accomplish their assigned tasks. Voight remained outside of his office; he didn't want to step inside until he finished allocating jobs for each of them, "Mouse is going to start fresh tomorrow on the night club's surveillance camera. Also before coming out, I spoke with Platt, she offered to order us in some dinner since we're pulling another all-nighter; dinner should be here any minute. Lindsay," she looks up surprised that out of the remaining detectives, he requests for her; she knew that whatever he was going to assign her, it would be busy work, "Call the front desk of the Indianapolis police department and get a rush on those case files and once they're faxed over, I want you to look through them. See what we're missing."
And she was right. It was work to keep her occupied or it was work most likely to keep her busy and away from Tyler. The police were going to fax over the case files as soon as they had the chance; her calling to rush them wouldn't make them move any faster. They knew how important it was for her unit to have those files in order to continue investigating the case; if they haven't sent over the files yet, it wasn't due to procrastination; it was most likely because of it being a cold case. Those files were stored away somewhere and before they sent them over, they had to be located and signed out. She'll do as she's told, but they all know it's a waste of time. Out of all of the case files a big city's police department files each week, it's going to take them time and energy to search through each and every one. She knows this because if some other agency called to request the same thing from her unit, she wouldn't know where to look for the files first. Even so, instead of rebutting his direct order, she grabs her cell and heads towards the quiet hallway to make the call. Burgess and Atwater both remained in the bullpen making phone calls and she didn't want to have to speak over them or the rest of the team as they further discussed the case.
Erin is walking the hall as she waits for the front desk of the Indianapolis police department to pick up. And after being transferred two to three times to someone who could actually assist her, she leaves a message with a rookie cop to remind the unit who oversaw Shelby and Lucy's cases to either call her back or send over the file as soon as possible. She hangs up the phone and her free hand covers her baby bump as she hears the growls of her tummy; she's hungry and she needs to consume something besides water. She thinks this as she proceeds to lean forward and drink from the water fountain. Lindsay briefly pauses from drinking water to wipe her mouth, "I can't wait until whatever Platt ordered gets here. I'm starving," she whispers to herself, both hands falling to the slight bulge in her lower abdomen, "Hi baby, if you want to eat, you have to let me eat," her thumbs rub against the barely noticeable baby bump, "I need to eat. And you have to let me keep the food down."
Burgess is the first to hang up the phone –she left voicemail messages at the offices and homes of Shelby's family and friends. No one answered. It was around rush hour time so it wasn't odd for no one to be at home or work. She didn't have their cell phone numbers because they weren't listed on the print out that Mouse left on his desk. Kim had called back to back, rotating between each number; she wanted to give the team –and more importantly Voight- some type of update on the case, but just like everything else, it was a dead-end. And it'll continue to be a dead-end until one of them calls her back. However, -and unfortunately- all of that takes a backseat to her current situation when her stomach erupts into a loud gurgle, it filled the bullpen and earned chuckles from her male coworkers. Luckily, Platt walked in, holding boxes of pizza and pulling in all of their attention before they had the chance to poke fun.
"Your savior is here," Platt jokes, setting down all four boxes of pizza onto Mouse's desk.
Kim's arms wrap around her waist, "I'll get Lindsay," she whispers to no one in particular. She honestly doesn't even think anyone heard her. Each guy was absorbed with grabbing slices of pizza; you would think they haven't eaten in years.
Kim descends down the hallway and sees Erin up ahead drinking water –she's definitely staying hydrated. Burgess smiles; she's staying hydrated all for the baby. Erin didn't drink half as much water as she's drinking now. The smile on Burgess' face stretches even wider as she continues to watch her best friend sip water from the fountain. She sees Erin leant over and sipping water, but she also sees her gray shirt, it's slowly rising up a little and revealing the shaping of her stomach.
"Erin," Burgess sighs; her eyes go wide as she watches Lindsay jump back –she accidentally scared her, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I was just going to say that you need to tell Halstead and Voight soon; you're starting to show a little more."
"I'm only six weeks; that's a little over a month."
"I'm not saying you're as big as a house, I'm just saying you'll eventually get there."
"He'll know by then," Erin replies, straightening out her shirt and pressing her hand over the front to ensure herself that it was nothing to see; it was all in Burgess' head. She thought she saw a hint of a bump because she knew Erin was pregnant. If she didn't know about Lindsay's pregnancy, she wouldn't think she saw anything; it was all in her mind. She pulls her hands away from her shirt and looks up with innocent eyes; eyes that plead with Burgess to listen, "I'll tell him in maybe a week or two…maybe three."
"When you're nine weeks pregnant –almost three months?"
"Yes," Erin's voice breaks; she sees the look of disappointment on Kim's face and it hurts.
"You're going to keep wearing baggy clothes to cover it up?"
"It's just for another three weeks," Erin affirmed, crossing her arms behind her back, "I should wait until the first trimester is over. After the first trimester, we're in the clear. I'll tell them."
"Erin-"
She interrupts, "Can we not talk about this?"
"What about your doctor's appointment?"
"I've only had one since the appointment I had when I found out."
Kim sighs, "Jay deserves to know Erin."
"And he will," Lindsay exclaims, closing the distance between herself and Burgess. She takes a hold of Kim's hands and squeezes them tightly.
"…then what's the problem?"
"I'm scared, okay?!" Erin shouts; her bottom lip trembles the second her confession is disclosed, "I'm terrified! And I try to busy myself and think about everything else but this baby, but I have you constantly in my ear reminding me of what I already know!"
"You know Jay wouldn't turn his back on you. He's your husband and that's his baby!" Kim exclaims, feeling Erin's hands tighten around her own, but the quiver of Lindsay's lips and the creasing of her brow take her by surprise, "That's his baby, right?"
"I'm not even going to dignify that question with a response," Erin contended, snatching her hands away from Burgess –stepping back from her right afterwards. Her face completely disgusted by the insinuation Kim made and her body language shifting away from her –depicting the hurt expression on her face and the tension in her shoulders.
"Erin, I'm sorry. Of course it's his baby."
Her hand covered her mouth as she suppressed a cry; the sight broke Kim's heart. She stepped towards Erin, and her heart broke even more when she watched her best friend step back. She extended her hands –wanting to do everything possible to keep Burgess away. She didn't want to be comforted; she didn't need it. She could take care of herself, and usually comments or insinuations that weren't true didn't make her cry, but this time, she couldn't help it.
"I feel like once I tell him, it'll be so much more real," Erin decides to talk anyway; she talks through the falling tears, she speaks through the hurt and she expresses herself regardless of the fear in her heart and the upset in her soul, "I need to close this case. If I tell him now, he's going to tell Voight and he will take me off the case; he'll take me out of the investigation. I need to work this case. I need to get justice for those girls!"
"Jay is going to notice sooner or later."
"Jay's a guy, they rarely notice anything."
"What about when you and Jay…you know, get romantic?" It was an awkward question for Kim to ask, but she asked it anyway.
Erin's hand falls back onto her nonexistent bump, "It's not that noticeable. Since this is my first pregnancy, the doctor says I should start showing between twelve and sixteen weeks."
"Erin, you're six weeks pregnant," Kim reminds.
"I'm going to tell him."
"When?"
"This is none of your concern Kim; this is between me and my husband," Lindsay snaps; her posture straightens, her hand drops from her belly and the tears stop falling from her face; she snaps herself out of whatever funk she was falling into in order to end this conversation, "So I would really appreciate it if you would stay out of my relationship and focus on your own!"
"I'm going to pretend like that didn't hurt."
Lindsay had no intention of hurting her feelings; she sometimes forgot how different she and Burgess are personality wise. It's what made them click right away. Kim was sensitive, but Erin wasn't, at least not until recently. Lindsay was bold and confident, but Burgess second-guessed herself a lot –she wore her heart on her sleeve, while if you wanted to know how Lindsay truly felt, you had to dig through layers. Even though she and Kim were polar opposites, it just made them get along a lot easier. However, sometimes Erin did forget that Kim was more sensitive than she is, and without regretting what she said, Erin replies, "I'm sorry."
Burgess approached her and smiled when Erin didn't step back, "Pregnancy hormones, I get it." She wraps her hands around Erin's upper arms and pulls her into a tight hug.
"No," Lindsay whispers into the hug, "I'm sorry. I can't even blame that on the hormones. That was 100% all me."
"…experiencing any other symptoms?" Kim purposely chooses to ignore it and Erin is perfectly fine with it; if pretending she didn't snap at her closest friend would make her feel better, then so be it. If pretending that it was because of her pregnancy made what she said any less harsh, then Lindsay was happy to go along with it.
The two pull back from the hug, "Besides the constant nausea? No." Erin answers in a soft tone.
"No food cravings. You're pregnant; you can eat whatever you want without being judged."
"I can barely keep anything down," Erin proclaims, dropping her hands to rest upon the lower portion of her belly.
"Can I touch it?"
"Touch what?" She questions, following Burgess direct line of vision to her tummy, "My stomach?" Erin shakes her head and steps back; she's slightly caught off guard and a little weirded out, "Oh Kim please don't turn into one of those people."
"One of what people?"
"One of those people who insist on always rubbing a pregnant woman's belly!"
"Come on Erin," Burgess steps forward and almost automatically Erin steps back.
"There's barely anything there." She retorts, running her hand smooth down the outside of her shirt to show Kim that her stomach is basically still flat, "The baby is not even the size of my fist yet." She balls her fist together for emphasis.
"You're baking a baby in there!" Kim argued, pointing towards her friend's flat belly. And knowing Kim and how persistent she can be –at least with Erin- she decides to give in, especially before someone overheard. Erin removes her hands from covering her tummy, "Alright fine, but make it quick."
The second Erin gives in, Kim practically bounced over. The smile on her face was stretched a mile wide. She resembled a kid on Christmas day. She was too giddy, especially being that she's technically the first person to rub Erin's stomach –Lindsay and her doctor didn't count. She's beaming proudly as she stretches her hand forward, and the moment her hand comes into contact with the fabric of Erin's gray shirt, amazement and love appeared on her face. Underneath her hand was Lindsay's shirt and underneath that shirt was her flesh that protected her baby. Kim absolutely couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. There's absolutely nothing that could ruin this day for her. She wasn't even the one that's pregnant, but the love she had for her best friend's baby, the baby that will call her aunt, the child that she'll hold and care for as if he or she were her own was indescribable. Her eyes are closed as she settles in the moment; her hand rubbing against Erin's flat stomach –feeling a slight hump underneath her bellybutton. She smiled even harder and she could actually feel her cheeks starting to ache from how stretched out her face is.
Kim leans forward and ignores the dramatic sigh that escapes Erin's mouth. She knows her best friend well enough to know she's rolling her eyes and probably thinking that Kim is doing too much, but she didn't care. The second everyone else finds out, they'll hog her and Burgess may not have a moment like this again. Both hands are now rubbing against Erin's tummy, and Kim is leant over at eye level with Erin's waist, "Hi beautiful."
Instead of an annoyed groan that Burgess was expecting, Lindsay surprises the both of them and laughs, "The baby probably looks like a bean or an alien."
"The baby is still beautiful to me," Kim defends, straightening her posture the second her back started to strain, "Where are those maternal instincts I always hear about from expectant mothers?" Even though she's standing upright now, her hand still remains on Lindsay's stomach.
Erin shrugs, "They haven't kicked in for me yet." It's a simple answer about a topic she hasn't really thought much about until now.
"What's going on?" the two detectives immediately –almost instantaneously- jump apart at the sound of Olinsky's voice, "What are you two doing?"
"…Erin was just-" Burgess hesitates after stumbling over her words; her hand is swatted away by Lindsay the second they both realize they were still in contact.
Olinsky looks back and forth between the two women, "Do I even want to know?"
"…no," Lindsay answers before Burgess has the chance to respond.
"I just came to remind you both that the food is here."
"Thanks Al."
Olinsky didn't turn to leave right away; instead, he gives both girls one last look and squint of the eye before turning to walk back into the bullpen. Once he leaves, both Kim and Erin release a loud sigh of relief –Burgess is shocked to find herself just as relieved that Erin's secret remained a secret. She may have disagreed with her on this whole issue, but she will support her decision no matter what she thought about it. Kim's hands grip her hips as she releases another breath of relief; her lips are poked out and she's releasing breath after breath until she feels a slight shove against her side, "HEY!" Kim laughs, as she immediately turns to Erin, "What was that for?"
"You almost got us caught."
"You make it sound naughty," Burgess jokes and after catching her balance, throws her arm around Erin's shoulders to pull her closer –she flushes her side against Lindsay's side, "I'm starving. Let's go eat."
"Hopefully this little nugget lets me." Erin replies while one hand wraps around Burgess' waist and the other subconsciously sets itself upon her stomach.
"Baby Halstead," Kim asserts as they slowly walk in the direction of the bullpen, "it's Chicago style pizza; let your mom eat and I swear you'll fall in love with it."
"You're reasoning with a fetus."
"I'll be reasoning with an infant too once the baby gets here."
Erin grins; her dimples lightly reveal themselves against her cheeks, "When are you going to find time to reason with the baby?"
"…when I babysit; if I don't reason with the kid, I'll have to bribe it."
"You're not bribing my kid."
"…which is why I said I'll reason with it."
"Come on, the guys are out there and with every second we waste talking is another second they could possibly be eating our pizza," Erin's raspy voice laughs as she leans her head against the shoulder of her best friend, "And besides the kid is hungry. Hopefully you reasoned with the baby enough to let me eat a slice or two."