One of the worse feelings she has ever had in her career is thinking that she made a huge breakthrough in a case, only to learn that a piece of evidence led nowhere –it was a mere dead end. It's the fifteenth week since the Intelligence unit was handed the case. It should have been solved by now. The perpetrator should be arrested and facing prison time, not free and potentially searching for his next victim. It's the fourteenth week of Erin's pregnancy –she's three and a half months- and she desperately wants this case solved before the baby arrives. The fact that last weekend, she and Kim went shopping for maternity clothes put things into a clearer perspective; she's going to be showing soon. She has to tell Jay. She has to be restricted to the bullpen –not able to go out into the field. It's the second week since she started her second trimester, and she had every intention of telling Jay about the pregnancy, but another argument sparked, he ended up sleeping on the couch and by the time they made up, they had to get back to work, they had to focus on their professional life instead of their personal one.
Lindsay adjusts the elastic band around her waist –her maternity slacks comfortable and slightly loose. It's the first pair she has worn since she found out she was pregnant. Even though she's a little glum about transitioning into maternity clothes, she's relieved and happy to not be experiencing anymore morning sickness. She's not as tired either. She actually has been in a pretty good mood these last few days and if it wasn't for the strain and seriousness of the case, her mood would have been more long-lasting.
A week ago, the vintage ring was released from the evidence locker and given back to Mr. Foster. He was relieved. He hugged Erin. He thanked her. He kissed her cheek. And he cried. The ring led them nowhere. After Erin showed Jay the ring and read the inscription to him, it was placed into a bag and quickly transported to forensics. It was swabbed and checked for fingerprints, and the only prints they could find belonged to either Lindsay or Platt. The ring gave them nothing. It pointed to no one. And the only good thing to come of it was the look on Mr. Foster's face –the relief in his eyes and the happy tears rolling down his cheeks. It was almost a week ago when this happened and Erin still remembered every detail of that day –the day she was able to keep her word to Mr. Foster and return Linda's ring to him. It was the only good that came out of that minor piece of evidence.
The ring only gave them more questions than answers. Why was the ring sent to the precinct? Why was it sent to Erin more specifically? Why was it removed from the fingers the perpetrator cut off? What message is he trying to send? Voight and the team –besides Atwater and Mouse- had dedicated the last few weeks –from the day she found the ring until now- to investigate why the perpetrator had chosen to send something from Linda to Erin. She's sitting in her desk chair using her left hand to stroke underneath the slight protrusion of her stomach. It's soothing and she definitely needs to be soothed after watching Voight pace up and down the aisle of the bullpen demanding answers and giving orders. The desk blocked her hand and the large sweatshirt continued to dangle loosely around her to obscure the visual of her baby bump.
Erin hears a chair dragged over to the side of her desk, and out of reflex she pulls her hand away. It's only Tyler she notices by looking over in her peripheral. He's smiling, and leaning forward on his elbows situated at the corner of her desk. It's obvious he wants to say something to her. The urge to speak is pulling at him, but he doesn't want to speak over the sergeant. Tyler waits until the last order is given by Voight before he speaks, "You figured out the ring belonged to Linda," Tyler rubs his hand congratulatory against her back, "Look at you solving stuff. I knew you had it in you."
"I didn't solve anything. I just found his ring."
"And it was sent to you," Tyler reminded; a smug and curious expression mixed on his face.
She whispers back, "That's the part I'm stuck on," Erin sits up and turns to face him, "Why me?"
"That's what you're supposed to find out."
Tyler could hear Erin's stomach growl, and she embarrassedly makes eye contact with him. He shrugs it off. It's normal. It's the typical response of an empty stomach. Lindsay excuses herself and gets up, using the armrests of the chair to help her stand. She's quick. She makes sure to get to her feet as swift and steady as she normally does –she doesn't want anyone picking up on anything. She feels Tyler's hand press against her lower back, and is immediately forced to push it away. He was only trying to help steady her, but Halstead was watching. His eyes followed her; she used her hair to cover the side of her face as she powerwalked towards the breakroom. His eyes also follow Tyler as he breaks into a light jog in the direction of the breakroom –Jay trusts her. He frequently reminds himself. Jay trusts her. They've been in a relationship for eight years; they've been married for six of them. She's earned trust. Nothing is going on between them.
Erin grabs a red apple from the inside of the refrigerator. She bites into the juicy fruit and closes her eyes the second they get dry again. She doesn't know what's up, but for the last few days her eyes would water, burn and sometimes dry out. It was irritating. She used her empty hand to rub her eyes until she started seeing white spots. It was only a temporary relief and after she attends her sixteen week OB appointment, she has an appointment right afterwards with an eye doctor to hopefully get some prescription eye drops. Her eyes had been killing her. Lindsay is sitting down, nipping at her apple and occasionally wiping at her dry eyes when West walks in.
"Hey!"
Lindsay turned her upper torso slightly to see who had spoken, turns out it's Detective West greeting her. She turns back forward and takes another bite of her apple, "Hi," she said dismissively, chewing upon the crunchy red fruit.
"Are you upset with me?" He asked directly.
"No, why would you think that?"
"You pushed my hand away."
"It had no reason to be there," Erin responds, watching as Tyler takes a seat in the chair beside her, "I came in here to eat alone."
"You're upset. What's wrong? Is it the baby?"
"It's not the baby."
"What's wrong?"
Lindsay shakes her head, refusing to give in and admit to him the reason for her distress –the pain in her eyes. She sees Tyler pull his chair closer, refusing to give in and drop the subject. Erin looked into his for the first time since he sat down and saw the hurt that was lingering within them. It wasn't a big issue; it wasn't something to fuss over. She just needed a prescription eye drop to fix whatever the hell is wrong with her eyes. Tyler poses the same question, and once again Erin shakes her head, "It's fine Tyler."
"It's not fine. And why isn't your husband in here helping you?"
"My husband is working; he's solving this case like we're supposed to be doing," Erin put it simply; it didn't need further explanation, especially from her to Tyler.
"Well Erin, if I were your husband," he obviously and openly flirts, brushing a loose and frizzy strand of hair behind her ear, "I wouldn't let you out of my sight."
"…then it's a great thing you aren't my husband." She remarks, swatting his hand away.
"How did he get so lucky to end up with a woman like you?"
"Tyler, please don't start this again."
"You don't get it Erin. I've been searching for my perfect person for most of my life," He confessed, sighing, "And it came so easy for you two."
"It didn't," Erin reveals, closing her eyes as she thinks back to the beginning of her relationship with Jay, "we've overcome a lot of obstacles stacked against us. We worked hard for this relationship. We earned this marriage. None of it came easy! Trust me on that."
West leans back in his seat, hands going behind his head, "My perfect person is probably already taken or dead. Some people are just destined to be alone forever."
Erin's apple long forgotten as she sits down onto the table; she sets her feet into the chair, "She's out there," she grabs her apple and bites into the last chunk of it, "You need to find someone who is on the same page as you. Don't seek something from someone who doesn't have the capacity to give it." She feels Tyler take her finished apple from her hands and toss it into the trashcan by the door –it lands effortlessly into the bin.
He turns back to face her so they can resume their chat, "You're just saying that to cheer me up."
"Tyler, you're a nice guy, but you're going about this all wrong. Don't look to love a perfect person, you won't find one." Erin stated firmly; her butt shifts to the edge of the table as she looks him in the eyes, "You're special someone is out there. You're funny, persistent and very charming –you can be a little obnoxious and conceited, but we all have our faults."
He rolls his eyes, "Thanks Erin."
"Tyler, what I'm trying to say is, she's out there, waiting for you," Erin put it simply; she's leaning on her elbow set firmly upon her lap, "You'll get your happily ever after, you just have to work for it like the rest of us."
He stands up in front of her, "What if I'm not meant to be loved."
"Everyone's meant to be loved," her voice is low, and the rasp in her tone draws him in –it's mesmerizing to him, "everyone deserves love and happiness. And to be honest, I don't know who I'll be without it."
A silence fell over the room. Her eyes are glossed over as she daydreams –she pictures the earlier newlywed moments with Jay. The words she spoke to Tyler were the same words once spoken to her. Jay was her perfect person; he may have been flawed in many ways, but she loved him for every imperfection he has and accepting his marriage proposal six years ago only meant that they're willing to love the good and the bad in each other. Having a perfect person by no means implies they have no faults, it just means they're your person, compatible in all ways that count and will be there for you –and vice versa- whenever life gets hard. Tyler's eyes are staring into hers; he's enjoying the perfect pearls of her orbs looking back into his. She smiles; her mind is continually thinking of her relationship with Jay, her vows to him and the promises she's made that she will forever keep. The smile on her face forces a smile to form on his. Tyler thinks they're on the same page; he's positive that this moment they're experiencing right now is reciprocal. It isn't. And because he was so confident in the moment, he didn't hesitate to act.
He felt the moment –a moment that she didn't pick up on. And the moment he felt, he took advantage of it. His hand grasps her chin; he leans in and seals his lips against hers. Erin's in shock –it takes seconds to register. And the moment his lips begin to move against hers, it clicks, he's kissing her. He's actually kissing her. And before Erin can push him away, before she can slap him, before she can tell him to stop and to never do that again, she feels him immediately yanked away. A shadow is casted over her head –she looks up and sees him, she sees her husband towering above her. Erin pushes off the table and onto her feet, looking between Jay and Tyler, the latter whom is currently on the ground rubbing his jawline.
Halstead stood in front of her; his eyes are wide and filled with shock and absolute disbelief. He looked from Erin's eyes to her lips, the lips that were once covered by Tyler's. The expression on his face is easily readable; it's cold, hard and distant. For the first time since she has known Jay, she's scared, she's worried –she can positively say that she has never seen this look on his face before. Extending her hands and taking a cautionary step towards him, she whispers, "Jay…" She knew she was metaphorically walking on pins and needles as she stepped towards him, "Please let me explain. It's not what you think."
"It's not what I think," Jay is not even looking at her; he's staring at Tyler rise from the ground. He's watching the other detective with his cold, piercing eyes, "It's not what I think," Halstead repeats his earlier comment and in that moment, Erin knew, she knew that between the intimidating look and the fire burning within his eyes, that she needed to pull him away.
Lindsay takes his hand. He snatches it away. She grips his arm and immediately pulls him away from the scene. She drags him out of the breakroom, down the hallway and into the empty interrogation room. Jay's face, his eyes, his body language was all void of any emotion. Erin shut the door to the interrogation room behind her quickly; she turns back to her husband, he looked heartbroken and the expression on his face breaks her heart. She opens her arms, wanting so badly to touch him, to hold him, to hug him, but when she tries to actually wrap her arms around him, he steps back.
"Jay…"
"Don't Erin."
"Jay…" she tries again, "it was a stupid mistake –an accident."
"So you expect me to believe that Tyler accidentally tripped and his lips landed on yours?"
"No, no, of course not," Erin's voice echoed in protest.
"I'm not an idiot!"
"I know," her hands are extended outwards as she takes a small step towards her husband, "I'm the idiot. I got distracted. I let that happen and I'm sorry. I've been an ass these last few months and I deserve your anger. I didn't know he was going to kiss me, and I know that's not an excuse, but if I had known, I wouldn't have let that happen, I would have stopped it," she's met with silence; he doesn't know how to respond and he doesn't know if he should even say anything –it would get them nowhere, "Please, say something," Erin begged.
"What the hell is going on with you?" He nearly shouts, causing for her to take her first step away from him, "I've been good to you. I've tried. I've tried so hard to accept the fact that you're friends with that guy –that guy who so obviously likes you, the same guy you assured me you had nothing going on with."
"Nothing is going on with us."
"So what was that I walked in on? I wouldn't have punched the guy if I saw nothing going on."
Looking at her husband, Erin thought hard about what to say –it was unacceptable what happened between her and Tyler; she regrets it, "Jay, I'm so sorry."
"That's all you have to say."
"What else can I say? There's no excuse and I don't want to make one," And for the first time since she pulled him away, she saw a break in his face –actual emotion starting to penetrate through, "Babe-"
"You need to start talking to me."
"I've been a little busy, we've all-"
"You obviously haven't been that busy," his remark interrupts her last statement. And instead of arguing back to defend herself, she bows her head and accepts it. She deserved his anger.
"Jay, I'm so sorry."
"Stop apologizing!" He walks over to the two-way mirror and stares at her reflection; his arms crossed over his muscle tee and he's doing everything possible to keep calm, to remain level-headed, "What's going on with you? And don't you even think about saying you don't want to talk about it here or you don't want to tell me when I'm angry. I'm tired of the excuses! What's-"
"I'm pregnant."
She says it cheerfully. Happy tears are piercing her eyes. She doesn't think about it. She just says it. She knows if she had weighed the pros and cons of telling him, in this moment, she would end up saying nothing. It's quiet. All her admission brings is immediate silence. She wants a response; she needs to hear something. Voight smiled and hugged her when she told him. Tyler gave her a compliment when he found out. Burgess and Platt had questions about it, but it was something. Lindsay approached him from behind; if he wasn't going to offer a comment, she needed to see his face. She can read him like an opened book, all she needed to see was his eyes –they'll tell it all. Her hand reaches for his arm, and he moves it away. She reaches again and gets the same response. Erin had just told him some of the biggest news that would change both of their lives immensely and all he's doing is giving her the cold shoulder. A matching rage, a protective anger boils up inside her as her arms cross over her chest, "Look, I get you're mad, you're disappointed and you're upset; you have absolutely every right to be, but babe," she takes a deep breath, "I need you to say something about what I just told you." She can hear him taking deep breaths, most likely trying to calm himself. And as he releases his third breath, she reaches her hand out to grasp his forearm, "Jay, I'm pregnant." His arm is stiff –he's frozen, "We're going to have a baby."
It felt like an eternity. It felt like she had been waiting forever for a response and movement, and finally she got it. He turned around –a hard, stoic expression on his face. His voice sounds cold when he speaks, "You're pregnant," he says it as more of a question in which she nods to answer, "Are you sure it's mine?" Jay saw her face; he watched her eyes grow watery, and almost immediately after asking the question, he regrets it. She's horrified. She opens her mouth to speak, but words fail her and she's forced to reclose it. And when he takes a step closer, preparing to renege on his words, she slaps him. With the same hand, she covers her mouth and storms out of the interrogation room. Jay releases an irritated grunt, kicking the chair across the room. Hating this whole situation, Halstead punched the wall in front of him, regretting it almost instantly when his knuckles turn a dark shade of red. He storms out of the interrogation room and enters the bullpen to get back to work, regardless of what's happening in his personal life, he had a job to do. He was too furious to try and discuss it; he needed to use work as a distraction.
"I'm going to get some air," Lindsay snatches her jacket off the back of her chair. She doesn't look his way; she only looks at Voight to make sure he heard her.
Each member of the team is doing a task Voight assigned to them. He uses their distractions to ease himself towards Halstead. Jay is running a search on each of Trent Walsh's friends who went out to the bar with him that night. As the background check continued to run, Voight leans himself against the edge of his son-in-law's desk, "Is everything alright?" He nods his head towards Erin's desk to let Jay know what he's referring to.
"Erin's pregnant," Jay states matter-of-factly; his eyes remain glued to his computer screen.
Hank pats his back, "Congratulations." Being told the news again had the same effect as the first time. He's beaming from ear to ear, completely excited to be a grandpa again and for them to become parents, but regardless of all of that, Hank knew Jay well enough to know the look on his face isn't because of an unplanned pregnancy, "What is it?"
"I caught Tyler kissing her."
"What?" Voight stands up straight, and his eyes immediately scan the bullpen in search of Detective West –the detective whose sole purpose in temporarily joining his team is to help them with their investigation, not hit on and kiss the girl he saw as a daughter.
"In the breakroom," Jay says casually, pointing over his shoulder in the direction, "just now, I saw them kissing and I hit him."
It's all Hank needed to hear. He let Jay get back to work as he walked over to the breakroom. Tyler remained inside, rubbing his hand gently against his jawline, "You're off this case." Voight states it as fact and doesn't leave much room for argument.
Tyler rises from his seat, "You can't do that!"
"I believe I just did. Grab your things and get out."
Hank leaves the breakroom before Tyler has another chance to argue or refuse. He stands in the bullpen, fuming with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches Detective West grab the few things he brought to the unit. The rest of the team watches too, curious as to what happened for Tyler to leave in the middle of their case. His jacket is clenched in one hand and he's holding the handle of his briefcase in the other; it's firmly gripped in his hand, occasionally bumping against his leg as he walks to the staircase. He abruptly stops before taking a step down and he decides to speak once more to the sergeant of the team, "You can't keep me off this case. I assume we'll be running into each other again in the near future." It's all he needed to say. It's all that came to mind. West leaves. He doesn't say goodbye because he knows he'll be back. It's the only way they'll solve this case; they need him.
As he takes one step down at a time, he hears the team get back to work as if nothing happened. The last order he hears given before he leaves out of the gate is Voight telling Dawson and Olinsky to work on getting a warrant to the club footage from Indiana. He walks pass the desk sergeant, and Platt just gives him a sly look –a nod of the head signaling farewell. He pushes through the first door, angrily steps down the stairs before pushing through the second. It's not as chilly outside today as it had been the last few weeks; however, he still needed to put on his jacket. Tyler walks down the sidewalk, easily slides the sleeves of his jacket on while maneuvering his briefcase from hand to hand. The anger within him rises and lowers; he tries to remind himself not to get too upset because he knows he'll be back. The reminder was useless. It only served to be a temporary release of anger. And the second he felt it bubbling back up, he sees her. The anger suddenly disappears.
Erin is hunched over an outside trashcan –nobody in sight but her and him. Tyler walks over, drops his briefcase and carefully pulls her hair back. Nothing is coming out. She's done. And now that her hair is pulled back behind her head, she sees him in her peripheral and immediately swats him away from her. The groaning is back –she moved entirely too quick, "When's the glowing part of my pregnancy going to start?"
"I thought it already did."
This earns a smile on her face, and the tears in her eyes irritate her pupils along with the itchiness that's been occurring on and off all day. Lindsay wipes her eyes with the back of her hands –it temporarily relieves the itchiness and wipes the tears from her eyes, relieving them of the blur it caused. She sees his briefcase on the ground beside him, "Where are you going?" That briefcase hasn't left the unit since he started working there. He would leave for the night and his briefcase would stay; the fact that he's leaving with it, only meant one thing.
"I've been relieved of my duty."
She runs the back of her hand across her mouth, "You're off the case."
"Technically, but we both know I'm not one for following orders." He tries to lighten the mood and joke about kind of being fired from a case he's worked on much longer than them.
Lindsay walks over the curb of the sidewalk and takes a seat down upon it. She wants to draw her knees to her chest, but the baby bump prevents it. She simply bends her knees and brings them in as far as it would allow, "Why did you kiss me?" Her arms wrap around her bent knees and she leans her head forward to rest against her lap.
"I thought there was something between us," Tyler admits, rushing over to take a seat beside her, "I thought we were having a moment."
Her head remains pressed against her lap, "You misinterpreted. I see you as a friend, that's all. And friends don't kiss each other, especially like that."
"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry really isn't going to solve anything."
"I can go talk to your husband."
She shakes her head –even though her forehead is still pressed against her lap, "That's going to make it worse. He doesn't want to hear from me. And he really doesn't want to hear from you."
"I'm sorry."
Erin lifts her head, "I'm sorry Hank kind of fired you."
"Well you can thank your husband for that," he casually comments, bumping his shoulder against her arm, "I guess him and I are even."
She wipes the fallen tears off her cheeks, "What do you mean?"
"I know he said something to your sergeant."
"He did? I'm sorry for that." She turns her head to look forward, "Personal stuff shouldn't get in the way of our professional duties," She suddenly averts her eyes back in his direction, "You shouldn't have kissed me Tyler. I'm a happily married woman."
"You're married, but you don't look too happy." He says directly and insistently.
"Of course I'm happy! I'm married to the greatest man; he's perfect and-"
Tyler cuts her off, "I thought you said there's no such thing as perfection in a person."
"I mean he's perfect for me."
"Yeah, because as far as I can see Jay Halstead is far from perfect," Tyler provoked, watching as she exasperatedly slides a few feet down the curb –physically drawing away from him.
"That's beside the point," Even though she's angry at his comment, she chooses to be civil and calm in her response, "The point I'm trying to make is before you came along, we were good. We barely argued. We were so happy. And then you came into the picture and stirred things up," her head slowly turned to face him once again, "There's something about you that creates trouble." And surprisingly, of all the responses she expected, laughter wasn't one of them. He laughed –tossed his head back, mouth open wide and chuckled loudly. If she was closer to him, she would have hit him, but she's not, and instead she glares, "It's not funny."
"Look Erin," his laughter is slowly dying down, "no offense, but if your marriage was as strong as you think it is, as you say it is, our friendship wouldn't have been a problem. Your husband wouldn't have felt threatened. He's insecure. It shows; it's all over his face."
Erin adjusts her butt against the curb –it's getting uncomfortable. And instead of focusing on the rough ground hard beneath her, she finds herself rubbing against her eyes -the burn within them being more painful than the former. Tyler mistakes the red in her eyes and the wetness to her cheeks as tears, "Let me guess," He desperately wants to reach over and wipe her tears away, "you stormed out of the precinct because of your husband?" Tyler scoots over –he's beside her again. And since she didn't slide further away, he had assumed all was forgiven.
"I stormed out because of what you did." Lindsay decided to be honest in her response. She wanted to be clear so something like this will never happen again.
"I thought you wanted it."
"You should have known that I didn't want you to kiss me," Erin shouted, raising her left hand in front of his face, "because of this right here!" She points to the ring on her finger and waves it annoyingly in front of his eyes.
Tyler whispered, appearing stern and solemn, "What did he say to you?"
"I am not having this conversation with you."
"You obviously need to talk to someone."
"Yeah," Erin emphasized, wanting desperately for Tyler to understand, "but it's not going to be you. It can't be you!"
"And why not? Erin, I'm no longer working this case because of everything that happened between us. You've given me advice. Let me try to return the favor."
As she sat against the cold cement curb, her legs unbend and she stretches them out. Her hands go behind her to press against the sidewalk and she leans back, allowing her hair to loosely fall and dangle over her shoulders. It was a rare quiet , tranquility in the city. The fall breeze blew through her thin jacket and her hair blew in all sorts of directions, but she didn't mind. Her thoughts were too focused on her conversation with Tyler and everything he had to say. He's offering to be an ear to listen. He's trying to be a friend to her. He wants to give it a shot and actually provide her with advice. She can always go to Burgess, but she'll end up complaining about her relationship with Adam. Tyler was offering an ear to listen –no strings attached- and she really, desperately, wanted to talk it out with someone who wouldn't make the conversation about themselves or make her feel guilty about all the mistakes she has made in the last fourteen weeks. Erin bit down upon her bottom lip –she's thinking hard about this. Her hands are intertwined over her stretched out legs, and when she sighs out loudly, Tyler turns to look at her, knowing that she's about to speak, "My husband doesn't trust me."
"I highly doubt that he doesn't trust you. Your husband doesn't trust me."
Lindsay nods, considering that what he said was correct, but it took nothing away from the accuracy in her first statement. She sees him scoot closer and out of some type of fear or paranoia that her husband or someone she knows may come see her and interpret something that isn't there, she instinctively slides over –further away, "That's true, that's very true, but he doesn't trust me either."
"I find that hard to believe."
"If he did, he wouldn't have implied that I've been having an affair."
Tyler's mouth falls open, "He said that?" He's actually surprised. In the fourteen weeks he has known the team, Halstead had always seemed like the stress-free, confident and put-together guy that fit together perfectly with Erin. To see the underlying faults in their relationship is reassuring –to know that she doesn't have a perfect marriage to her husband is satisfying. She apparently hasn't found her perfect person yet either.
"By asking is this baby his, yeah, he basically said that."
"You told him about your pregnancy?"
"Yeah," Erin's butt goes numb against the cold cement. She places one hand against the bottom of her small baby bump and uses the other to push herself to her feet.
Tyler doesn't offer any help. He had known her long enough to know she normally doesn't accept it. He simply joins her in rising to his feet. He sees her reddish eyes filling with tears, and for the first time since joining the team, he passionately grips the back of her neck and pulls her into his chest. Detective West doesn't care who could possibly see. There's nothing against hugging, and he could tell she desperately needed one. With her head still pressed against his hard chest, he responds, "And how did he take it?"
Her voice cracks, "Not good." She's so close to allowing the tears to fall freely from her eyes, but she's trying everything in her power to suppress it.
"Erin, I'm sorry for seeing something that wasn't there." It wasn't genuine, but she believed it.
"You're my friend –that's all." Erin feels Tyler sigh against her; he's grateful. She draws out of his arms, "Nothing more, and nothing less." A part of her feels guilty for the hug, but it meant nothing. However, if it meant nothing, she shouldn't feel guilty in the first place.
Tyler sees the pout in her lips. He knows that inside that head of hers, that big brain is on overdrive. There's an internal battle that he can see through the brightness in her eyes. Tyler sets his hand upon her shoulder, breaking her out of that mental battle, "Do you really think men and women can be friends?"
"I do. I have plenty of male, platonic friendships."
"So it is possible, we can be friends."
"Just friends," Lindsay emphasizes, making sure he understood the most important part in what she's saying; her eyes are wide and serious, not a hint of play or lightheartedness within them, "because if you pull some shit like you just did, we're nothing."
"We're friends," Tyler restates, offering his hand towards her.
She shakes it, "Let's just leave the past in the past and go on with our lives. Let's pretend nothing happened." He holds her hand a bit longer than warranted, but she doesn't notice.
"I'm with it."
"Good," She pulls her hand free.
Tyler grabs the handle of his briefcase, "I should get going."
"Yeah, I should get back inside before Voight sends someone out looking for me."
They stand in front of each other. Officers occasionally walking by as they bid their farewells, however neither one moved to leave. She couldn't believe it, but Tyler had kind of grown on her. The conceit in his personality, the charm in his character, the sometimes annoying way he carries himself and the persistence he had in joining this case and befriending her was going to be missed. The man whom she once saw as a jerk and an asshole had managed to become that irritating friend you find yourself needing to be around every once in a while.
"I can't believe I got kicked off this case," Tyler murmured, standing in actual shock that he has been dismissed; it has never happened before. The look he gives her, the plea in his eyes and the slight frown to his lips kicks her pregnancy hormones into overdrive. She feels bad for him. He has worked this case longer than anyone and now he was relieved of duty. He had to go back to his district and face who knows who about why he was kicked off. Erin did feel bad for him. It was a slip of judgment, a misinterpretation of something that wasn't there. It shouldn't have gotten him kicked out, especially since this case is much bigger than a one-sided kiss; this case deserves everyone's attention and effort.
Erin steps towards him; she gives him a reassuring smile, "I'll see what I can do about that."
"Thanks Erin," he sighs in relief. Tyler knows her connection to Voight and if there was anyone to get him back in the unit, it would be her. His eyes fall to her belly; she isn't showing much, but he knows in the next week or two, it'll start to become noticeable, "Also good luck," he holds back the urge to rub the small bump, "and congratulations on the baby. You're already the perfect wife, the perfect detective and the perfect friend. I hope I can see you being the perfect mother as well."
She doesn't argue or correct him. She simply accepts the compliment, "Thank you."
As she stands in front of him, her jacket opened with her hands stuffed inside, she grins when he offers her another much needed hug. Her pregnancy has caused her to become a great ball of mush. Hugs and laughter had become her temporary cure. West wraps his arms around her shoulders, steering his hands clear of any inappropriate contact or what could be seen as improper touching. It's a loose hug, but she's still in his arms. The wind blows for the umpteenth time since they've been outside and he gets a deep whiff of her hair –it smells angelic, a mixture between vanilla scent and flowers. He doesn't want to let go. He takes another whiff and grins as he breathes out the heavenly scent, "Any time I think of you, I always end up smiling. Thanks for that." The hug lasts longer than usual so Erin makes the effort to pull back.
"If I can make someone smile, even after they got fired, then I guess I'm not as bad as I thought." No further words are spoken between two. They walk pass each other; he's going to his car and she's going back inside the precinct. She's going back into reality –the world where her husband is pissed at her, she's pissed at him and they both have to work together in order to solve this horrific case.
As Erin pushes through the second door to enter the precinct, she spots Platt. She's talking on the phone and holding up a finger, signaling for Erin to hold on a second. The detective stops walking and approaches the front desk, patiently waiting for the sergeant to wrap up her phone call. And once she did, Sergeant Platt didn't hesitate to get right to the point, "Lindsay, what happened? I can spare an hour to talk."
"I don't want to talk about it," the detective pats her hand against the desk as she draws away from it. She hears the access gate unlock and wraps her fingers through the slits in order to pull it open. Erin can feel Platt watching her walk away, and she appreciated the friend and the maternal figure Platt has offered her through the years, but she didn't want to talk about it anymore. She exhausted the topic and all she would be doing is repeating what she has already said –she got it off her chest and talking about it with Platt wouldn't change anything.
Voight watched her reenter and instead of calling her over, he gains her attention and nods towards his office. He wants to talk about it. He was her boss. She had no choice in the matter. She took that shameful walk down the aisle, eyes glaring at Jay as he purposely and noticeably avoids eye contact with her. He's staring extra hard down at his computer screen, the background check is running on Trent's last friend; the other friends had successfully passed their checks. No one else notices the tension in the room; the rest of the team remains oblivious to the conversations that occurred between her and Tyler, Halstead and Voight, Tyler and Voight and now her and Voight. Pulling her eyes away from Jay, she walks into Hank's office, and the second Voight shuts the door behind them, he speaks, "What do you think you're doing?"
"I can explain," she immediately responds, quickly turning around to face him.
"Erin, don't ruin this." Hank keeps his voice low; he isn't angry, he's more worried than anything, "You have something good, don't screw it up."
"Hank, you can't take his side."
"I'm taking the side of what's right!"
She jumps back and bites her lip, "You don't know everything!"
"…then tell me!"
"There's nothing going on with me and Tyler. I swear. He's just a friend who got caught up in a moment. It was a stupid mistake."
Voight walks around her, "Did Jay catch you two kissing?" He takes a seat in his desk chair.
"He walked in at the wrong time."
"So that's a yes?"
Erin turns to face him, "Yes."
"Good riddance to the guy," Voight growls, moving the mouse of his computer to bring life to the screen; it lights up and illuminates his face, causing for him to reduce the brightness.
Lindsay takes a seat in one of the empty chairs and uses her feet to slide it as close to his desk as possible. She leans forward, reaches for Hank's hand and squeezes it gently, "Voight, we can't let our personal feelings get in the way of us solving this case! He won't do it again, but you can't let our mistake stop us from getting justice for those women."
"I'm in charge. I can do whatever the hell I want." Voight casually replies, he's typing along his computer –what he's working on, she doesn't know.
"Hank, please," she reaches forward and pushes his keyboard away, "just hear me out. The terms you two set were to allow him to solve this case with us and then he's gone; he's out of here."
"Yeah, that's true, but I just can't stand your little boyfriend."
"He's not my boyfriend," she remarks, correcting his purposely mocking slipup.
"I don't like him."
"Neither does most of the team, but some of them respect him professionally." Erin proclaimed; her eyes eventually drifting down to stare at the closed file resting on his desk –the original file, "He brought us that case file…it got us the warrant."
"That was months ago."
"Hank, those women deserve all hands on deck."
"You're right," he simply agrees, expression stoic upon his face as he leans back in his seat and intertwines his fingers over his abdomen, "but all hands can't be on deck when you're in the breakroom kissing your boyfriend."
"He's not my boyfriend! Stop calling him that!" Erin asserted, jumping to her feet in irritation, "He's just a friend. That's all." She leans forward and her opened palms lay flat against his desk, "And he started this case, I just figured, he should be able to end it."
Voight looks as if he's considering everything she just said, but with the shake of his head, he dismisses it, "I said no. He's not coming back. And the more you keep pressing the issue, the more I'm starting to think you actually do have feelings for him."
"I don't."
Hank leans forward, "…then drop it kid. We'll solve this case with or without him." The expression on Erin's face gets lighter. She accepts it.
"Okay. I'll drop it."
That look of guilt, that look of blame and fault is apparent on her face. She says she'll drop it, but the determination in her eyes and the stubbornness in her character prove otherwise. Her hand subconsciously drops to her stomach; she cradles the small bump as she retakes her seat. Voight watches her; he sees the wheels turning in her head as she tries to think of a way to change his stubborn mind. It's not going to work. Hank still watches her though –tilts his head to the side in curiosity, "Why are you trying so hard to bring him back?"
"…because it's my fault you let him go." One lonely tear drops from her eye and rolls down her face. Voight knew that something like this wouldn't normally get to her; it could be the pregnancy hormones, but he wasn't going to say anything in those regards.
"No, it's his fault." Hank explained, rising from his seat and walking around his desk, "He kissed you, not the other way around." It's his best attempt at ridding her of the blame.
"How do you know?"
"…because I know you I know you wouldn't intentionally kiss someone while married to someone else. I know you wouldn't have an affair. I know you wouldn't risk breaking up your family. I know you Erin."
"You understand that, I just wish Jay did."
"Halstead loves you kid. He's just hurt. And to be honest, any man would be," Hank's words are gentle and judgment free; he's leant against his desk with his hand cradling her chin –ensuring he has her undivided attention. "The fact that he's even acting like this just shows that he loves you. You see Tyler as a friend, but he sees something more. A friendship won't work if you two aren't on the same page. You've always had a kind heart, it's one of the many things I saw in you years ago which let me know you weren't like the other street kids. And I know you enough to know that you hate being the bad guy, but Erin you can't please everyone, and your husband takes precedence over a friend you've known for three months. Focus on your marriage. Focus on getting back to where you two used to be. Don't ruin what you've spent years to build."
"I won't. I love him too. It just feels like we're drifting apart."
Voight nods, completely understanding her thoughts and how she's feeling, "That's normal and it's good that you've recognized it before you've fully drifted," Hank stands up straight, "You two deserve each other. Make an effort to fix things."
"How am I supposed to do that when I am so mad at him?" Erin exclaims, quickly turning around as he approaches his closed office door.
His hand hovers above the doorknob; he grips it, but doesn't twist it, "Why are you mad at him? He's the one who caught you with Tyler." Hank releases the doorknob.
"We're mad at each other," Erin admits, watching as Voight turns around fully to face her, "He said something that really hurt me."
"And-"
"And I don't want to repeat it."
"Are you okay kid?" He closes the distance between them; his arms envelope her into a hug, and he protectively and reassuringly rubs her back, "You know you can talk to me whenever. No matter when or what about, I'm always here for you."
Before any tears could fall from her eyes, she clears her throat and steps back. Erin's smile meets Voight's confused expression. She flattens out her outfit and clears her throat, "I'm going to be fine," she moves around her father figure and head towards his office door, "I'm going to go make me some tea to settle the nerves in my stomach." Hank nods.
Lindsay leaves out and purposely stares down at the ground to avoid Jay's gaze of the eye. His orbs follow her as she disappears into the breakroom. She approaches the counter and rises to the tip of her toes to pull the cabinet doors open, "Where is it?" She's scanning for her mug, "You have got to be kidding me," she spots it and it's on the top shelf. It's an obvious sign that someone has used and washed it because she would never put her own mug on a shelf she couldn't reach. Erin turns around and grips the back of a chair to drag over. She pushes it as close to the countertop as possible, before climbing on to it.
"Erin, you shouldn't-"
"Please," she interrupts her husband as he rushes up to her side, "don't tell me that I shouldn't be doing this unless you're going to actually do it for me."
"Erin, come on, get down," Jay urged, his eyes are wide open as one hand holds the chair steady and the other goes to her lower back, "You're being ridiculous."
"I'm trying," she grunts, stretching her hand as far up and back as her height would allow, "I'm trying to get my mug."
"You're pregnant!"
She immediately looks down at him before angrily looking back up, "Why are you worried about it? Apparently you don't think it's your baby. If it's not your baby, it isn't your concern."
Jay let out a heavy sigh, "I didn't mean what I said."
"Yes you did," she takes a momentary glance downwards in his direction, "And I get it," Lindsay shrugs before focusing back on the task at hand, "I haven't exactly been the beckon of trust lately." She rises to the tip of her toes to see above the tallest cabinet shelf.
His hand remained pressed against her lower back –she surprisingly didn't swat it away, "I said the one thing I knew would upset you. I was hurting –sorry, I am hurting- and I wanted you to hurt too. And I realize that just because I'm mad at what happened doesn't mean I should try and intentionally hurt your feelings."
"You're right, but you did."
The chair squeaks and both of Jay's hands immediately fly to her hips; his eyes wide in panic, "Come on down. Please. You're pregnant."
"I know Jay. You don't have to keep reminding me."
"This chair doesn't look steady."
"It's fine."
The chair squeaks again as she rises more onto the tips of her toes, "Would you please stop? You're going to hurt yourself!" He's contemplating on where to position himself; he needed the best placement for if she unfortunately fell.
"I'm pregnant, not incapacitated!"
The disadvantages of her short height sometimes irritated her. She's reaching back for her cup; it's all the way at the far end of the cabinet, touching the back. Her fingertips brush against it, but it's unable to grip the handle. Actually, instead of sliding it closer, she unintentionally pushes it further away, "Damn it!"
"Get down; I'll get it."
"I got it," Erin stated matter-of-factly.
"Why did you even put your cup all the way back there?"
"I didn't," she snaps, looking down at him once more, "I can't even reach back there so why would I do all of this to put my mug at the back of the cabinet?" She looks back up and sees the corner of her cup, waiting patiently to be grabbed and filled with tea. She sighs.
"Erin, get down."
She's irritated, "Don't you have a job to do?"
"Yeah, the same job you need to do!"
"I'm fine. I have this. Now would you just go and leave me alone?" Erin shouts, angrily pointing her finger in the direction of the door –she's mad and the anger brings tears to her eyes.
"What if you fall while I'm gone?" Jay asked with a concerned expression apparent on his face.
"You'll be right in the next room."
"That's my kid too," he argued.
She chuckles dryly in response, "It's funny how just an hour ago you weren't saying that."
"Why are you even mad at me? I had every right to question whether or not that baby is mine."
"Do you really think that low of me Jay?"
It's a rhetorical question –at least to Jay it is. Erin was actually waiting for an answer. And when one doesn't come, she immediately looks down at him and without using any words, his eyes plead for her to get down. They're already mad at each other, and without grabbing her mug, she allows him to help her down. She drops her hand –eyes red and puffy- and on the count of three, he lifts her up and sets her down. Once her feet safely land on the ground, Jay uses his height to reach up and grab the mug from the back shelf. He barely reaches it himself, but after rising to the tip of his toes, his fingers loop through the handle of the mug.
"Thank you," she whispers, using one hand to take the mug from him while the other hand pushes the chair back against the table.
Once she expressed her thanks, Lindsay doesn't pay him anymore attention as she goes to the counter and begins making her a cup of tea. She's silent. He's quiet. She knows he's watching her, but she acts like she doesn't notice. She doesn't want to notice. She honestly wants him to leave her alone. Erin knows she screwed up with Tyler. She knows she has to earn back his trust. However, the combination of pregnancy hormones and his hurtful words made it hard for her to try. She's so angry. She's hurt. She thinks they need a break; they need a break from each other. It's the only clear alternative to this. She can barely think of anything besides the fact that her husband thinks she crawled into bed and had unprotected sex with someone else. And she knows –she knows just by the look in his eye that he keeps picturing the kiss between her and Tyler. He's only trying to make amends for the baby, not for him, for her, or for their marriage. She didn't want one of those relationships; she didn't want the relationship where the parents stayed together for the child, it would do more harm than good. She refused to let her kid grow up in a household like that. It's either they're truly happy together or happy apart.
"Er," she knows he's about to attempt to apologize and she doesn't cut him off, "I'm…I'm so sorry. I regret what I said. I didn't mean it at all."
"I have nothing to say to you." Tears form in her eyes –it's from both the burn reddening them and her feelings being hurt. She knows he doesn't mean it. It's all just spoken to save face. And what's the point in accepting his apology when every time she looks at him, she sees the anger in his eyes? Tyler's out of the picture, but Jay is still mad.
"Erin-"
She slams her hot cup of tea down, "You want to know something?" Lindsay immediately turns to face him and watch him answer her question with a nod, "The moment I start thinking that life has given me something to be happy about; you turn around and ruin it."
"I was just angry. I didn't mean what I said."
"That kiss didn't mean anything," she quips, her voice practically begging for him to believe her, "I wasn't expecting it. It meant absolutely nothing because I feel nothing for him. I love you."
"I don't want to talk about it."
She turns back to face her cup of tea –allowing it to cool off; her shoulders immediately tensing at his sign of rejection, "You don't want to talk about the huge elephant in the room? You don't want to talk about what's still bothering you; it's all in your face," her hands curl and her nails scratch against the counter, "You don't want to talk about what hurt you, but you want to keep talking about what hurt me?"
"Erin-"
"Be careful with what you say" she cuts him off and immediately cringes once she hears an emotional break in her voice, "because…because," it's still breaking and tears are falling uncontrollably from her eyes, "sometimes the hot air that comes out of your mouth can't be solved with a simple and meaningless I'm sorry."
Jay watched her resume stirring her tea, the occasional sniff or hiccup sounded as she tried to stop her tears from flowing. He didn't want to talk about what happened between her and Tyler because he wanted to forget about it. It was one kiss –he tries to remind himself of that. It's hard though, especially when you walk in and see the kiss. Halstead could tell that it was a one-sided kiss, but Tyler's lips were still on hers –they were still touching his wife's lips. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to think about it. He wanted them to go back to what they were and who they were before Tyler came into the picture. As Jay thinks of what to say next, the continual sniffing and hiccupping coming from his wife distracts him; he's focused on that. How can he not be? She's crying. She never cries, at least not in front of him.
He reaches out for her hand, "Babe, don't cry."
"Can you leave me alone?" She raises her hands and steps away from him, "Please." Her voice sounded so sad, so fragile and so weak. He hears her sniff again. He wants to comfort her.
"Erin-"
"When you wanted to be left alone, I left you alone." She tries her best to sound normal; she doesn't want to come across mean at her next request, "Now I'm asking you do the same for me. Please," Erin notices Jay's eyes fall towards her small baby bump; he squints to notice it more, the loose shirt manages to obscure its vision, but when her hands settle on it, he immediately notices the shaping, "If it's not about the case or the baby Jay," she turns to look at him and he finally sees the dark reddish color in her eyes, "then I don't want to hear it." He opens his mouth to speak and she shakes her head to stop him.
He lifts his foot to take a step forward and she raises one hand, stopping him from approaching any closer and without uttering another word, grabs another apple and her tea and departs the room in complete silence. Erin walks out into the bullpen and she purposely keeps her head low –buried behind her hair- to hide her red eyes and her wet cheeks. As she sets her mug of tea and her apple down onto her desk, she uses the back of her thumbs to wipe beneath her eyes. The team's discussing the case; she's listening in as she takes a seat. She hears them discuss victim by victim, starting with Lucy Grant and Shelby Ward in Indianapolis –they're going over every piece of information no matter how small and seemingly unimportant it is, if it's included in the file, it's currently being brought up and talked about extensively.
"So we know Lucy had teeth implants and Amanda had breast implants," Olinsky comments, eyes taking a glance at the ceiling as a thought rolls into his head, "what if our perpetrator is a doctor? Or someone in the medical field?"
Dawson bites his lip and shakes his head in rebuff, "I don't think so; the medical examiner in the report said that the cuts to their skin and ligaments were very unprofessional and sloppy."
"Maybe he's a dentist?" Atwater offered an alternative.
"Nah," Ruzek lifts up Lucy's opened file, "remember, he removed all of her teeth instead of just the implanted ones. A dentist would have been able to tell the difference between the two."
"What about Linda?" Burgess spoke up, eyes settling on Erin as she watched her best friend sip her tea quietly, "and Claire? What about Michelle? What about Trent?" Kim's eyes avert towards Halstead as he walks over to his desk, opens Michelle's file and reads it in order to avoid the watchful gaze of both Kim and Erin.
"We're stuck," Ruzek asserts, slamming Lucy's file back down onto his desk.
"Don't say that," Erin murmured, setting down her empty cup of tea; she's calm and somber, "if you say we're stuck, we're going to start thinking we're stuck and then we'll actually be stuck. Let's look at the obvious distinctions instead of trying to find the obvious connections," everyone ignores Lindsay's reddened and tear-dried face as she looks over at the whiteboard, "Each of our victims was found in a park or garden, but Trent was found in his car."
"Trent was basically mutilated; our perpetrator took no mercy on him," Dawson added.
Burgess stared down at the opened file on Trent –her eyes could only look at the crime scene photo for seconds at a time, it was too graphic and gruesome, "Trent's crime scene was left sloppy. He didn't care for Trent the way he cared for the other women."
"And there has to be a reason for that," Erin replied, before taking a bite of her apple. She finds it soothing to nibble on food throughout the day –sometimes healthy snacks, and other times junk food, but either way, now that she's in her second trimester, the baby approved.
Halstead remained sitting at his desk, silently working on something. By the creased line in his forehead, Erin could tell he has noticed something that they've all must have overlooked. He doesn't speak right away, instead he goes to the computer, the tips of his fingers flying across the keyboard and his wide eyes scan whatever search he typed in and entered. He grabs the computer monitor and turns the screen around, "Guys, I…I think I found something!"
Voight walks over, "What is it?"
"There were traces of a chemical swabbed and tested around Michelle's mouth after her lips and tongue was taken," Halstead began to explain, pointing his finger against a chemical compound written in bold in the article on the computer screen, "Botulinum toxin type A, I just looked it up. It's an ingredient in Botox cosmetic. It's a chemical found in Botox injections."
It's Dawson who reiterates Halstead's point, "You think her lips were taken because she got Botox surgery?"
"It can't be a coincidence," Jay sighs, turning his computer screen back to face him.
Burgess speaks up –reminding the team of one other important detail, "What about her tongue?"
"Do people get Botox on their tongue?" Ruzek asks, eyes wide in curiosity.
"No," Burgess flatly responds, rolling her eyes, "and the drug wasn't found inside her mouth, just where her lips are supposed to be."
Atwater shrugs, "Maybe he couldn't take her lips without taking her tongue?"
"What?" Voight's head immediately whips in Kevin's direction.
"It was just a thought," Atwater replies, frowning.
"Why cut out her tongue?" Olinsky states the question that baffles everyone's mind; he removes his hat from the top of his head, and rests his palm against the center of his forehead, "It just seems so random, and so odd."
Erin swallows her bite of apple, "At least we can add her to the connection between Amanda, and Lucy," she takes another bite.
"We can't be so sure," Burgess interjects, she begins a slow walk up and down the center aisle, "Just because someone got work done at one point in their life doesn't automatically form a connection. We can't just assume here."
Erin looks at Jay, "When did she get Botox?" She maintains her professionalism as she speaks to him for the first time since their argument.
"…a day before she was killed," he reads from the autopsy report.
Erin looks back at Burgess –meeting her best friend's eyes, "See, there is a connection there." She turns back to face her team, "Surgery or some type of alteration has to be our connection."
"And we have no speculation on why he took her tongue?" Voight frowned, steering the conversation back onto one of the many questions that remain unanswered.
A brief silence falls over the bullpen that is occasionally interrupted by sporadic bites of Erin's apple. The crunch and the chews go unnoticed because each team member's focus is on the important matter at hand. Burgess continues pacing as she tries to think of some sort of explanation to Michelle's tongue being removed. Ruzek's arms are crossed and rested on top of his desk, with his head lying against his crisscrossed forearms. Halstead is staring at the computer screen, hoping that the answer would just pop up out of nowhere. And Dawson, he's looking at his copy of Michelle's file, he's reading the character statements from both of her parents and one of her closest friends –a similar statement is found within each report.
"Voight, she was an alcoholic," Antonio states what they already know, however when he hops to his feet they can see the urgency in what he says; he truly feels like he made the breakthrough, he answered the question, "That could be considered the alteration –a change to her body. She was a young, beautiful female, intoxicating her body. Her mother said that Michelle tried to steer clear of bars and that she obviously relapsed."
Hank approaches, "Good point, but what about Trent? Or Claire? Or Linda?" He watches each of his detectives scramble to reopen those case files, "They must have had some change," he peers over Dawson's shoulder as he flips through the loose pages within Claire's file, "There's no coincidence that most of our victims had surgery or some type of alteration around the time they were killed. See if they were addicts or something." He points at Mouse, preparing to give him another task, "Pause the surveillance footage; I know you were finally getting to our second victim, but I need you to look up their doctors, their dentists, their health care providers…I need another connection, we need a suspect. Check their health records too."
As each detective scrambles to do as they've been ordered, Platt ascends upon the stairs. She's always light on her feet and quiet –her presence is announced when she's good and ready for it to be announced. The second she reaches the top stair, she clears her throat –no one hears. They're all too engrossed in the witness statements and the character reports of their victims. Once they are able to get a guaranteed connection, then they are able to close that chapter of the case. It closes that door, and opens a door that brings forth a limited suspect pool. It'll be a huge step; a step in which they will be able to warn his potential victims.
"Hey, I'll be quick." Platt interrupts their flow as she walks towards Lindsay's desk, "I just came to deliver something." She extends the small package towards the confused detective, "This just came for you a few minutes ago."
"It did," Erin whispers, unwrapping the gift-wrapped box, "Who is it from?"
"It doesn't say." Platt's too curious to leave. Her hands are in her pockets and she's rocking back and forth on her feet in anticipation.
Voight approaches the other sergeant, "Who delivered it Trudy?"
"A homeless person off the street was given ten bucks to deliver it here," she shrugs it off, while her eyes never once left the sealed box.
"Open it kid."
Erin nods, recognizing Voight's order. Once the gift wrap is removed, she grabs scissors from her draw to slide the blade across the taped opening, "What is it?" Burgess is quick to ask the second Erin's wide eyes and furrowed brows react to whatever she's looking at.
"Hair…"
Halstead rises from his seat, "What?"
"It's a few strands of hair."