For one split second at work, Erin is able to focus in on her pregnancy. She's able to actually be reminded of the baby growing inside of her. She's able to embrace and enjoy the pregnancy glow that she has heard about plenty of times, from a variety of people –both with kids and without. The advice she was given and the stories that have been told to her about the second trimester were all true. She has yet to hear of one that hasn't happened. The second trimester has been a breeze. At twenty weeks –a total of five months- pregnant there is absolutely no hiding her belly. It's noticeable. Any officers, who didn't know, definitely know now. Her appetite has increased and she's starting to miss the comfort of her bed. If she's not constantly occupied, she finds herself thinking about the baby or the fact that her bed is waiting for her at home. It's empty and every morning when she gets out, she sometimes pictures it calling for her to come back. And the fact that they've all been here for hours has her missing it even more; she's sitting in the bullpen, shoes completely kicked off her feet and she's nibbling on homemade trail mix.
Jay is rubbing on the back of his neck, feeling a crook develop within it from looking down at the files in front of him for so long. Mouse finds himself unintentionally dozing in and out of sleep; a few weeks ago he found Claire Montgomery in the surveillance footage, but he didn't see her talking with any men, and now, weeks later, he's currently searching for their third victim, Linda Foster. Erin had found herself regularly taking breaks throughout her work day. Making a baby is exhausting and since no one in the room has ever been pregnant, she uses that to her advantage in needing longer breaks every few hours. Erin hears her phone buzz against the corner of her desk and as she answers the unknown number, "Hello," there's an immediate click on the other end. They hung up. She shrugs it off; she didn't have the number in her phone so the person obviously dialed the wrong digits. A second thought isn't given, especially after Voight's office door opens and Commander Crowley storms out.
The last few weeks, she had been pressuring them for results, for answers, for something to tell the public. It had been months since they were handed this case and she assumed that if she took it from a different division and gave it to the Intelligence unit, they would have answers or an arrest by this point. However, it was easier said than done. Voight had been in his officer for the last two hours with Crowley explaining how far they've come in the case and also clarifying why it's taking so long for them to close this case. There hasn't been a killing in months –which is great- however, it leaves them at a dead end. They have a motive. They have a hunting ground location –the club. They have everything, but a suspect. And that frustrates the commander; it frustrates her to the point in causing her to storm out of his office and slamming the door behind her. The entire team jumps, they're completely caught off guard when the door loudly closes. Tyler is back and he immediately steps to the side, to allow the commander to storm pass him and down the stairs. In one hand he has a box of donuts and in the second, he has a box of to-go coffee, "What's her problem?"
No one answers; they're all too focused on the donuts Tyler bought for all of them. It's a peace offering. Since his return, he had been trying to make up for his unprofessionalism. Since her second trimester, Erin felt like the senses in her nose has increased; it's less sensitive than her first trimester, but it's more alert than her pre-pregnancy body. She's eager. She's hungry. The trail mix was only a temporary substitute to keep the growl off her belly. She was trying to save her appetite for dinner tonight, but the longer they spent in the office, the more she was willing to give up and just eat now and a little later. Lindsay uses the edge of her desk to hastily push herself to her feet; it was obviously a little too fast, as she gets a little dazed from the rapid and rash movement. She grabs her head as Jay's voice sounds, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," she uses the back of her hands to rub her eyes; they're starting to burn, "I think I just stood up a little too fast." Jay had set Erin up a new doctor's appointment for later this week to see if she can increase the strength and dosage of her eye drop prescription. Being mindful of her pregnancy, the doctor didn't want to give her the required eye drops and instead chose to give her a lighter prescription, but it was taking absolutely too long to fix whatever the hell is wrong with her eyes. And she's only able to use her eye drops when her contacts aren't in her eyes; so in the morning and at night are her only opportunities for immediate relief.
"I'll bring you over a donut."
She wipes her eyes again and retakes her seat, "Two."
"I'll bring you over two donuts," Jay laughs as he walks over towards the opened box of desserts. He briefly scans the assortment of donuts in search of her favorite.
Since she and Jay are in the process of working things out by talking and going to counseling, their marriage counselor recommended for her to start allowing him to help; she doesn't have to do everything. If he wants to do something for her, she should let him, especially in her current state. As Erin waits patiently for her donuts, she watches Tyler and Kim interact; it's interesting and a little distracting. She's still surprised that they're even hanging out outside of work, in a strictly platonic friendship type of way. He's currently nibbling on his donut while leant against Kim's desk; they're chatting and laughing while enjoying their short break to eat donuts and drink coffee. Ruzek is glaring, but neither notice nor care. Erin's watching, but she's more confused than anything. Since Tyler came back, he had been giving her the silent treatment, and while she didn't mind personally, when it came to work, it got irritating. He avoided her at all costs. And once again, she didn't mind, but it was frustrating when she needed to ask him something work related or associated with the case. They're both adults. A friendship didn't work out, but they still had to work together; he should be able to put aside his pride to have an adult conversation about their case.
Her eyes drift from Kim and Tyler and over towards the whiteboard. Those pictures have been hanging for months. She'll be happy when they finally catch this guy, remove those pictures from the board and put this case behind them. It's honestly taxing. This case was stressful before she was pregnant and now that in around four months she'll be having a baby, Lindsay felt rushed –she wanted this case to be closed before this baby came. She wanted to be able to enjoy maternity leave without stressing about what this maniac will do next. Erin's attention –her dazed out focus- is snapped back to the current matter at hand as Jay approaches her, holding two donuts in one napkin, "Here you go…" he extends the covered donuts, "What's wrong?"
"I'm sitting here, twiddling my thumbs, while waiting for something to happen," she answers, opening the napkin to take a bite of the heavenly tasting dessert.
He sits at the corner of her desk, "I feel you."
"We took for granted those days where the biggest decision we ever had to make was choosing which crayon color we wanted to use," she breaks off a smaller piece of the donut as Jay pulls her desk chair towards him.
"We'll get to live through those days again…" Jay replies, eyes falling to her protruding belly, "eventually."
"I'm looking forward to it."
He smiles, "Me too," Jay leans forward and gently squeezes her shoulder; eyes looking into eyes as his hand drifts down her arm to eventually rest upon her stomach. Every chance he gets, Jay touches her stomach. It's comforting. It's soothing to the both of them. He rubs it.
His hand glides across her swollen stomach until they're interrupted. Platt has announced her presence, earning everyone's undivided attention as she delivers a package to Kim. It's a small brown box. It's taped shut. And when Burgess catches the box that Trudy tosses her way, the whole team shifts their attention towards Kim, "Our lady detective here has a package," Platt joked, crossing her arms against her white-button up work shirt, "Seems she may have a secret admirer because Burgess here never gets packages."
"I do too," Kim argued, until she noticed the look Platt tossed her way, "okay fine, I normally don't, but that's because my last boyfriend never sent me anything." Ruzek lowers his head and purposely turns in the direction of Voight's office as their sergeant walks out.
Erin rises to her feet –using her husband's arm to support herself until balance was established. She releases his arm and walks over to Kim's desk; her best friend offered her the seat and she gratefully and thankfully accepted it as Burgess stood to open up the box. Inside was a ring –it's for a piercing. Also, there's a folded picture that Burgess pulls out. She opens it and seconds afterwards, she drops it. It falls to the top of her lap, forcing Erin to swiftly pick it up before anyone had the chance to do so before her.
"What is it?" Ruzek questions after noticing the panicked look on Kim's face.
Erin opens the photo, "Platt, who delivered this?" Lindsay turns the picture towards the team; it's a photo of Michelle –their first Chicago victim- she's posing with her friend and their sticking their tongues out of their mouths while holding up two peace signs. Implanted into her tongue is a ring, the same tongue ring located within the small box sent to Burgess.
"I don't know who delivered it. I went to the bathroom and when I came back, it was on the front desk with Kim's name written on it," Sergeant Platt explained, grabbing the photo, "Hand me the box, I'll rush it to evidence. Hopefully it's not too contaminated."
"Find out if that ring actually belonged to Michelle or if it's a lookalike," Voight approached, earning a head nod from Platt as she disappeared with another possible piece of evidence.
Burgess shudders; she's absolutely grossed out. She closes her eyes to wipe the mental image of the ring –the ring that was once pierced through Michelle's tongue- it's sickening. He removed her tongue and then took the ring out of it to send to her. She's creeped out. Erin looks to Ruzek; the look on her face is pressuring him to step up, comfort her. It's his chance to win her back. Everyone can see he's obviously not over her. She would rather have Ruzek with Kim than for her to be with Tyler. However, unfortunately, Tyler approaches Kim first; his hand rubbing against her back, his other arm pulling her into a hug, "Try not to think about it."
"How can I not think about that?" Kim exclaims, pulling herself from Tyler's arms, "The killer obviously sent that tongue ring to me! That tongue ring belongs to a dead girl! I…I was sent a dead girl's tongue ring…that's just," she cries out, shuddering in disgust, "that's gross!"
Adam's reply is laced with confusion, "I thought her mother said she didn't have a piercing…"
"Well her mother obviously didn't know," Burgess retorts.
"Kim," Tyler started, but the wave of her hand cuts him off.
"I'll be fine. I just…I just need a minute."
Erin stands up to offer Burgess her seat back to which she happily accepts. She flops down into the seat in shock. Her mouth agape and her eyes wide open as the image of Michelle sticking out her tongue brandishing a shiny tongue ring will always be implanted into her memory. She needed a distraction. She needed to think of something else.
"Guys…" they all look up at the sound of Dawson's voice. He's standing behind his desk, leant over and typing into his computer.
Voight walks over, "What is it?"
"I…I think I found something."
Hank leans over to see what Antonio is reading on his computer screen, "I have no idea what I'm looking at. I need you to spit it out."
"Voight, remember when you told us to look into the victims' health records a few weeks ago?"
"Yeah."
"And it took some time for the families to give their consent for the records to be released to us?"
"Yeah."
Antonio's eyes look up to meet the eyes of his boss, "I just got through Linda's health records."
"And what was in it?"
Dawson turns the screen to face the rest of the team, "She had surgery," there's a medical report on the screen, and Antonio scrolls downwards towards the x-ray, "She has an accident report. A few days before she died, she got into a minor car accident. The other driver walked away completely fine, but Linda, a few tendons in her fingers were ruptured," he points at the small breaks in her fingers –most likely caused by the airbags, "She had surgery to repair it."
Olinsky adds, "And it was no way the medical examiner could have known because he cut off all her fingers." It was completely overlooked by all of them.
"Do you know what this means?" Hank asks, turning to face the rest of his team.
"No."
"No idea."
"No clue."
Atwater, Halstead and Ruzek's comments were all spoken in unison as they looked away from the x-ray. Their eyes meet Voight's relaxed expression as he answers, "It connects all of the female victims. They've all either had surgery done to their bodies or some type of alteration, whether it's a piercing or hair extensions. Something to their bodies changed and therefore their relationship with the perpetrator changed."
To think of that, it's creepy. It's sick. It's nerve-wrecking. It's bad luck. How can one possibly avoid that? How do you do something completely normal for it to lead to a sicko using that as a motive for your death? There are women out there every day who have surgery, tattoos, piercings, extensions…there are so many other potential victims for the perpetrator to make his choosing. Burgess is watching as Olinsky writes tongue ring near Michelle's name on the whiteboard and eventually tendon surgery near Linda's name. They're all connected now. It's a far stretch, but it's a connection nonetheless. However, Kim's eyes drift towards Trent's photo; he's the only victim without a connection to the others. She stands, taking her mind off of Michelle's tongue ring and clears her throat, "What about Trent?" The focus is geared towards her as she breaks their brief episodic spurt of joy in finding a link to remind them that the biggest piece of the puzzle remains unsolved and unanswered.
"Burgess is right," Hank says, nodding along as he approaches the whiteboard, "Let's focus in on Trent. While I was in my office, I started thinking…maybe his death was a warning."
"What do you mean?" It's Ruzek who states the question everyone had been wondering.
"Trent's a male. He doesn't fit with the rest of our victims. He was a random guy who shared a few words with Erin and hours later he turns up dead," Voight explains, watching as Erin walked back over to her desk to resume eating her donuts and trail mix.
Atwater raises his hand to ask, "Do you think the killer wants all of us to know he's watching?"
"I think he does," Voight bites against his bottom lip and nods, "which is why I'm issuing a safety warning. It's obvious our perpetrator is not against killing cops and men. Everyone is up for grabs. Trent was a warning for all of us, so none of us are to venture out alone," he asserts, making eye contact with each detective separately, "I cannot emphasize the buddy system enough. Anywhere we go, we have a partner."
"What are we? Five?" Ruzek jokes, and the stoic expression on Hank's face immediately silences Adam's laugh.
"The perpetrator sent Linda's ring and locks of Claire's hair to Erin and he just now sent Michelle's tongue ring to Burgess," Hank reiterates a serious reminder; none of this is funny or worth being the topic of a joke.
"And not to mention," Atwater nonchalantly comments, "they both match the description of the previous women he has killed."
Voight honestly never even thought about that. The only time their appearance matching that of their victims crossed his mind was months ago when he sent them undercover. He never made the connection when they were receiving packages. Erin knows Hank. She knows the varying facial expressions he delivers day in and day out. And when he waves for Olinsky to walk over, she knows what he's about to order, "Al, assign officers to Erin's house and Kim's apartment. Erin, you don't need to come into work; go home and enjoy your pregnancy."
"You honestly don't have to do that," Lindsay swallows her last bite of donut. She wipes her dry eyes as she rises to her feet. They always seem to burn at the worst time possible.
"You're unable to defend yourself at the moment," Hank retorted, his hand waving wildly at her current state.
"I'm pregnant Hank," she commented, before pointing towards the weapon in her holster, "and I'm loaded. We're going to be fine."
"You have a duty to that baby."
Her hand waves in the direction of the whiteboard, "And to those women…"
"I hate to say it, but that can take a backseat."
"You're not thinking about taking me off this case."
"Just think of it as early maternity leave…"
She rolls her eyes, "That's not due until I'm at least seven months. Come on Hank; don't bench me when we're getting close to catching this guy." She pleads; her voice and her eyes begging for him to let her stay. She's not asking to go out into the field. She just simply wants to stay on this case, work within the bullpen and be here when they arrest the asshole doing all of this.
"We're not getting close. We still have a long way to go." Tyler remarks; it's his first time speaking to her in weeks.
She responds to his comment, but she doesn't look in his direction, "We have a motive."
"You still don't have a suspect."
Erin ignores Tyler's retort, "Hank-"
"We'll talk about this later, but you both are still having officers parked outside your homes."
"And I'm okay with that," she nods repeatedly; she was fine with being watched, she just still wanted to work on this case. It had been their main focus for months. She has to see it through. She has to see who has evaded the police for a year. She has to see who the mastermind behind all of this was. She needed closure for the families. And she needed solid answers, not speculation. This case has put their unit and the city of Chicago through so much; she absolutely had to see it through.
Voight's desk phone ringing stops him from continuing his side conversation with Erin. He sees Olinsky working on requesting squad cars to be parked outside of his unit's houses and sees Mouse still scanning the footage. He's making his way through. Hopefully, when he sees the third victim, he'll spot something about the man she is accompanying. His other detectives are stuck, they're waiting for their next orders, "That was a good find Dawson," Hank complimented, "we figured out why he takes certain body parts, now we need to figure out why he's keeping them. Some of you can focus on that, the other few; I need for you to form a suspect pool. Look into scientists, inventors, med students, dental students, and everything else along the spectrum and in between." He immediately disappears into his officer to attend to the phone call. Hank had his own leads he was looking into and following up on.
Burgess remains disgusted; she's still freaked out. She was personally sent the tongue piercing of one of the victims. She touched the ring; her fingers brushed against the piece of jewelry that was piercing through Michelle's tongue. She's going to get back to work, but she needed to wash her hands. She maneuvers through the worried faces of Ruzek and West as she goes into the breakroom. She can hear Detective West's feet follow closely behind her, "I'm seriously fine," she goes to the sink, squirts soap into her hands and rinses it off beneath the water.
"If you're sure…"
"I am."
"Hey," Erin greets, poking her head into the breakroom. She spots both Kim and Tyler, but her main focus is on her best friend. She's still the newest member on the team and some of the stuff they've seen and gotten used to, hasn't settled in yet for Kim. Erin walks into the room.
"I don't want to talk about it," Burgess avows, ripping off a paper towel and drying her hands as she leaves both Erin and Tyler in the breakroom. She needed to get back to work. Tyler even prepares to head back out to the bullpen, but as he reaches the door, Erin's arm blocks it.
"You better not break her heart." Lindsay asserts, arms still wide open to block the doorway, "And I'm serious about this Tyler. She's been through enough. Don't break her heart!"
He winks, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, "You don't have to worry about that. I got my eyes on a different girl."
"Don't lead my friend on."
"…the same way you're leading me on."
"Goodbye," she says through gritted teeth, dropping her arm and exiting the breakroom.
Tyler is left speechless –he's standing under the threshold of the door. His mouth is wide open and forming a large o-shaped outline. She's not being fun anymore. He thought after giving her some time to get her act together that she would eventually come back to her senses. He didn't appreciate Voight's order of staying away from Erin, and he definitely didn't appreciate Erin of all people warning him to be mindful of her friend's heart. That wasn't how any of this was supposed to play out. He doesn't care about Burgess; he only cares that Burgess is her best friend and he hoped that Lindsay seeing him with her would make her come crawling back to him.
Detective West steps out of the bullpen in time to see Erin sitting behind her desk –she squeezes a few drops of prescription eye drops into her eye. It forces him to take a step back. He steps back into the breakroom and immediately begins pacing, "She's fine. She's perfect." Tyler's convincing himself; he's conditioning himself to fully believe it. His mind is playing tricks on him –that's what he needs to understand and believe. He desperately needs the last two minutes to be erased from his mind, but it isn't that simple. The palm of his opened hand is beating against his forehead and the hits are quickening with each step he takes around the breakroom.
"Are you alright?"
He immediately straightens up, turns around and smiles, "I should be asking you that." His heart is beating in his chest like crazy. It's like switch; he's able to turn it on and off. One second he can be freaking out, pacing around a room while mentally spiraling out of control when the next second, he's calm, composed and confident, "How are you?"
Burgess approaches him, "Why is he doing this? Why is he sending us possessions of the victims?" She needs that male comfort. The feeling of being in a man's presence is always appreciated. She wanted to feel safe and she absolutely didn't when that tongue ring was intentionally delivered to her at work.
"I don't know…maybe he's trying to help you all with the case?"
"He can do that by turning himself in."
"Maybe he's trying to control what's going on."
Kim steps closer, "Why is he playing games?" Her hands pick at the loose thread on the sleeve of his suit jacket.
"Maybe he's bored? Maybe he's tired of the same old, same old."
She looks up, "Seven people that we know of died by his hands." Her eyes meet his and neither can find it in themselves to look away.
"He's sick Kim," Tyler replies, stepping back, "He's not right in the mind." He attempts to remain at least an arms distance away from her.
"That's what scares me."
"He's spiraling."
"He has to be caught."
"Yeah," he sighs, his eyes dazing off in the distance, "especially before he kills again." His eyes remain unfocused even after Voight calls for the team to come to the breakroom. Tyler is thinking about something; what it is, Kim doesn't know. It takes for her to wave her hand aggressively in front of his face while occasionally snapping her fingers to break him out of whatever far off haze he was in.
Tyler doesn't question it; he simply follows Burgess out of the bullpen. Halstead and Atwater had just come from the direction of the restrooms. Olinsky had just come from downstairs. And everyone else remained seated at their desks. However one man, a stranger since Tyler didn't recognize him, was here. He was as professionally dressed as Detective West currently is, but if you ask Tyler, the stranger is a far second for best dressed.
"This is Detective West," Voight introduced to the stranger, "He's only on our team temporarily, for the duration of this opened case. West, this is Dr. Charles; he's the head of psychiatry at Chicago Med." The mentioned doctor steps forward with an extended hand, and while Tyler truly didn't want to shake it, he felt forced. With a fake smile plastered on his face, he confidently shakes the older man's hand.
"What is he doing here?" Tyler asks, slowly pulling his hand away. He wasn't one for shaking hands.
"I called him," Voight answers, accepting the file Dr. Charles pulled out from his briefcase, "A few days ago I gave Dr. Charles the file we created for our perpetrator of everything we know about, including the kills, the victims, the method of execution and everything in between. I wanted him to take a look. I wanted him to tell us about who exactly we're up against."
Dr. Charles nods. He's been at the district plenty of times consulting on a case with the Intelligence unit. This wasn't the first and it surely wouldn't be the last. He was happy to take a look at the case file in order to approach the perpetrator from a new angle, an angle that required years of training and education to spot, grasp and diagnose. Dr. Charles saw it right away. Although, he couldn't make a clear and certain diagnosis until he sat down with the killer, but he was almost positive that this murderer is smart, yet mentally deranged.
"There's always error in diagnosis, but I firmly believe the killer you're looking for is a textbook psychopath," Dr. Charles starts by admitting a disclaimer, before delving deep within his reasoning for such a diagnosis, "Now remember, not all psychopaths are murderers. There are many individuals living prosperous lives with psychopathic tendencies. I just want that to be said before you all start hunting down everyone with a psychopathic diagnosis. I also don't believe the killer knows he's a psychopath; many people with disorders go undiagnosed everyday. And I was looking at the file," he nods his head towards the casefile resting in Voight's possession, "and his killings are sporadic. He hunts his victims at a nightclub which is a risky thing to do. I can send over the file I created later to tell you why he's a psychopath, but right now, I'll tell you traits he fits that you all should watch out for," Dr. Charles rests his hands in his suit jacket pocket as he takes the offered seat Dawson rolls his way, "They're charming; they have an inclination to be very smooth, laid-back, slick, engaging and verbally shallow individuals. They're not shy, self-conscious or afraid to speak up; they're very confident in their words and actions."
Erin looks up to feel Tyler's eyes on her. She purposely avoids eye contact and eventually his eyes drift over to Burgess. Kim is engaged in every word Dr. Charles is saying; he's knowledgeable and she wants to know every detail about the person who could commit such atrocious acts. She needed to know what kind of person would send her and Erin valuables of the deceased. Who is sick enough and twisted enough to do that? Kim scoots her chair closer to listen as Dr. Charles continues, "They're self-assured, very opinionated, cocky and definitely a braggart. They make smart criminals and even smarter businessmen officials. It all depends on how they channel those tendencies because they are arrogant, and they do believe they are superior to everyone else. They have this need for thrill, some type of exciting stimulation. They're prone to take chances and as I said earlier, engage in risky behavior," Dr. Charles takes a pause; he's simplifying the symptoms and traits for them when really all of this was much more complicated; these traits aren't all-inclusive, just because he's lacking one doesn't mean he's far from a psychopath, "Psychopaths lack remorse and empathy; they have a tendency to be unconcerned and cold-hearted especially when it comes to their victims."
"He left their bodies in gardens and parks with pink roses around them," Atwater interrupted; to him, that sounded like some type of twisted form of remorse.
Dr. Charles remembered reading about that in the file, however his answer was still the same, and the psychiatrist raises his pointer finger, ready to respond, "He mutilated their bodies by cutting off some type of body part. He's mocking them. By positioning them in a garden or park –both public places- he wants investigators to think he's cherishing them and preserving their beings, when really, he's putting them on display, and he's demeaning them," Atwater nods, fully understanding the doctor's point, and Dr. Charles turns to face the rest of the squad to continue, "They're master manipulators and pathological liars. They will use that deceit to cheat and con for their own personal gain. You wouldn't even know you're being manipulated because they can easily gain people's trust if they wanted. They do it by mimicking emotions –despite the fact that they have an inability to actually feel them, and to those unsuspecting people, they'll appear what society terms as normal. A psychopathic killer is deceitful, cunning and definitely clever; don't underestimate this perpetrator."
Voight scratches beneath his chin; he looks up to see Erin intently jotting down notes on what Dr. Charles is saying. He sets the file down on the nearest desk –Olinsky's desk- before stepping further, ready to probe for more answers, "What are we looking for? How can we narrow down our search Dr. Charles?"
"…the behavior."
"What about it?"
"Your killer has definitely had a long record before his killings. I'm not saying he was a career criminal as a child, but he definitely had some behavior problems in his youth, problems such as maybe lying, stealing, vandalism, bullying, fire-setting, early alcohol use and running away from home. He's probably promiscuous in his sexual behavior, having probably numerous brief and superficial relationships," Erin's eyes fall to Tyler; she's watching him intently listen to every word Dr. Charles is saying, "he's confident in his ability to woo women and he takes great pride in his conquests," Tyler eventually notices Erin and he gives her a bright smile; a smile that is completely inappropriate to be sporting during such a sensitive discussion, "His killings are unpredictable. The impulsivity in his behavior isn't premeditated and he could possibly be unable to resist the urge to kill; he's rash and pretty soon, he'll eventually become erratic."
Erin pulls her eyes away, "Dr. Charles…" She has a question and he turns to acknowledge it, "What happens when he's cornered? Do you think he'll try suicide by cop? Take his own life? Surrender? What do you think?"
"There are always outliers and there's no way for me to say for certain, but I believe he'll do everything in his power to maintain control; he'll try to get out of this alive if he can help it," Dr. Charles answers, earning a head nod from Erin to signify that she understands, "I do believe that when he's cornered and you lay out all of the evidence connecting him to the murders, he won't accept responsibility for what he's done. He'll blame everyone else for the circumstances that are basically his own fault. He'll declare his innocence. He'll act in denial and he'll use that to continue to try and manipulate others. But, don't let this fool any of you; he takes great pride in getting away with crimes. If he does admit fault, don't expect to see any shame or remorse for his actions. Everything he's doing maybe spontaneous to us, but to him, he probably already premeditated everything to minimize evidence, that's why it's so hard to identify and capture him. Anything he left at the scene, he left because he wanted to leave it," Dr. Charles begins walking towards the stairwell, "Psychopaths are professions in keeping up appearances; he'll be levelheaded, calm and definitely meticulous. To the untrained eye, it's easily overlooked. And there are very few things that will make the perpetrator upset, but when it's discovered and picked at, you'll get a reaction." It's the final words he says before zipping up his coat and setting his hat upon his head.
"Thank you Dr. Charles," Voight says, waving as the psychiatrist departed down the staircase.
The doctor calls back towards the sergeant, "Hopefully I was of some help."
And he was; he was of great help. It helped them to get inside of the man who is behind all of this without actually knowing who he is. It'll help them narrow down results. And at the end, it'll play a large factor in capturing him. Once Voight hears the access gate open and shut, he knows the psychiatrist is gone, and he turns on his heel to face his stunned detectives, "I know it's a lot of information to take in and process, but what do you all think?"
"Based off of what Dr. Charles said," Dawson leans forward, his arms crossed and resting against the edge of his desk, "the killer likes to see the pleasure in his kills."
"He's going to want to stick close by to see the aftermath," Olinsky chimes in.
Burgess rises from her seat and begins listing off possibilities, "He could be a medical examiner? A crime scene investigator? A forensic specialist? He could even be a lawyer?"
"What if our killer is a cop?"
Silence falls overhead and everyone turns to face the source of the question –Erin. She's sitting comfortably behind her desk, leant forward with her hands clasped together. She's watching Voight's facial expression; he looks skeptical at the conclusion she drew. Actually, every face looked a little unnerved at the thought, at the chance it could be one of them –a cop dedicated to protect and serve the city and those who inhabit it.
"That's a big accusation Erin," Voight sighs, hating to broach such a thought, "I hope you understand what you're saying. You're implying that someone who killed seven people, if not maybe more, could be a cop. We're brothers in blue Erin. You can't just make a statement like that without facts to back it up."
"If I find you facts…"
"…then we'll follow up on it," he agrees with the nod of his, although he desperately wants to drop that idea all together, he owed it to those women to get justice, regardless of what the killer does in his professional time. Voight pulls his eyes away and glances down at his wrist watch; he silently reads the time, "But, for right now," he looks up to meet her eyes, "I'm sending everyone home to start fresh tomorrow. Dr. Charles gave us some good information, and it's getting us one step closer to nailing this bastard. It's late and I need you all rested up if we're going to put these brains to work to find this guy."
No one can argue with that. Being released from work were words they desperately needed to hear. It's the afternoon, but they've started off early in the morning -it was around five am they all got into work. Voight speaks no further words as he disappears into his office. He's most likely getting into contact with the commander over their recent updates. If he wanted to have a goodnight's sleep then he needed to get her off his back. He didn't want to be woken up at four in the morning to superiors yelling into the other end of the phone line. He knows how important closing this case is just as much as they do. He didn't need to be constantly hounded, but because they had people to answer to as well, he tried to not let them get to him while keeping them in the loop on every detail of the case. As the detectives trickle out of the bullpen, Voight stays back and quietly shuts his door. Besides him, all who is left is Erin and Jay; she doesn't move as fast as she used to, and with Jay's help, she slides her arms into her jacket. She feels like a child as he adjusts her jacket collar before zipping it up for her, "You know I'm not completely useless. I can manage to zip up my own coat."
"I'm sure you can," he replies, taking a hold of her hand as the two begin walking down the stairs, "but it doesn't mean I'm going to stop doing it for you."
Erin shakes her head and laughs, "The therapist said to allow me to remain independent and to let me do things for myself so you don't take away from my individualism."
"She also said," Jay began to quote, sending Platt a wave of the hand as they departed from the district, "to allow me to help you, especially now that you're pregnant."
"I didn't need help zipping up my coat."
"You need to preserve your energy."
"You think the simple act of zipping my jacket will take away my energy?"
He unlocks her parked car, "Are we arguing?"
"No," she shakes her head and gives him a toothy smile as he opens the passenger side door for her, "we're having an adult discussion. The therapist said we both need to start listening to understand, not listening to respond. I'm just trying to understand why you feel the need to zip up my jacket every single time I put it on."
"You always have a hard time doing it; your zipper sometimes gets caught either in the fabric of your clothes or in a strand of your hair. I just wanted to help."
Erin nods, and buckles herself in, "Well that's sweet…"
"I'll stop if you-"
"I didn't bring it up for you to stop. I brought it up to understand and now I do. I appreciate it."
Erin silently leans over the center armrest and pecks his cheek. It's a thank you peck. It's a grateful kiss. She sits back and adjusts the strap of the seatbelt over her chest and belly until it's comfortably and safely positioned. The radio is low and is playing some out of date tune. She watches as Jay lowers the volume even more; now they can no longer hear the song and the beat. Halstead uses the silence to his advantage; he's quietly driving and occasionally glancing over in her direction, "Do you really think our killer is a cop?"
"I think," she chooses her words carefully; "it's a possibility that deserves to be looked at."
"A cop though…"
"Jay crooked cops screw the system all the time."
"I know, it's just cops already get a lot of slack from the public and the media, if this is true…"
She sighs and nods, "I know, which is why this theory is only staying in the unit. There's no reason to let any outsiders know if it's nothing. It was just a thought."
"What brought it on?"
"Jay," Erin whispers; her hands fumble in her lap as she stares out of the window, "do you think Tyler is a psychopath?"
"What?"
"Nevermind," she shrugs it off, "it sounds ridiculous."
"I can't stand the guy. And he may be a lot of things but a psychopathic serial killer?"
"I didn't think he is the killer," she corrected him quickly; "I just thought maybe he has psychopathic tendencies. Remember Dr. Charles said psychopaths live normal lives. Not all are criminal and dangerous…maybe Tyler is one of those."
"A psychopath though…"
"You're right," Erin nods in agreement; she feels his hand cover her own as he drives with his left hand remaining on the steering wheel, "…maybe my brain is trying to make connections that aren't there so I can have another reason to keep Burgess away from him."
"Wait," he briefly pulls the car to a stop at the stop sign, "Burgess and West?"
She reads the look on his face, "Yeah, well nothing happened between them…yet, but the feelings are one-sided and one-dimensional. Burgess deserves better."
"She does."
"That's all you have to say?"
Halstead shrugs and honestly admits, "I'm just happy the guy has moved on from you."
Lindsay couldn't argue with that. She and Jay had been working on improving their marriage, especially since they have a baby on the way. They're working on growing stronger and tougher. If they were to be honest, they thought Tyler's presence back in the unit would cause further issues, but with counseling and Erin steering clear of Tyler, it seemed his presence is having no impact at all –especially since his time and attention had seemed to be placed on Burgess. The car pulls up and parks in their driveway, Erin unstraps herself and looks out of the window, "What happens if the killer is a cop?" Lindsay felt compelled to ask as she watches the setting sun illuminate the darkening sky.
"We'll arrest him."
Erin looks at Jay, "What if-"
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Jay interrupts, stepping out of the car, "And let's not bring work home with us. I'm hungry and if my memory serves me correctly, someone promised to cook my absolute favorite tonight."
Erin chuckles as she gets out of the car, "I'll start dinner," she smirks and follows Jay up to their house. She hears him lock the car door with the automated keys before shuffling through them to unlock their front door. Erin had her own set of keys but they were somewhere at the bottom of her purse. It was just easier for him to open it with his. And after pushing the door open and turning on the hallway light, the two enter and immediately relax in the comfort of their home. She looks at him and smiles, "I'll get to cooking."
"I'm going to bring down the nursery planner we started yesterday," Jay announced, heading towards the steps. Erin nods and heads the opposite way towards the kitchen.
As she preps dinner, she patiently waits for Jay to join her with the planner, nursery magazines and paint samples for them to continue planning the scheme and layout of the baby's room. It was taking entirely too long, and by the time she put dinner in the oven, he was still upstairs. Erin walked towards the bottom of the stairs, "Jay," she leaned against the bannister.
He hollers back, "I can't find it!"
"It's in the office!"
"I'm in the office!"
She sighs, "…on the desk."
"Oh, found it!"
Erin chuckles and rolls her eyes at his horrible way of looking for things. Metaphorically, if it was a snake, it would have bit him. It was the only thing sitting on the desk. The office is a room in their home that they hardly ever use. It was used more when they first moved in and brought work home with them. Now, because they try to leave cases at work and not allow the stress and pressure of work trickle into their home and personal lives, their office has just turned into an unused room that has the potential of being their baby's nursery. After finding and picking up everything needed, Jay is down the stairs and sitting at the table in seconds. Erin is a little slower; she walks to the table and pulls out a seat across from him.
Erin takes a magazine and starts flipping through the different cribs, strollers and car seats. It was all overwhelming. Jay had another magazine and had been looking through the exact same thing. Both are overwhelmed and both look up to meet each other's eyes. She smiles, and slides the magazine towards him, "What about this crib? It's white and really pretty."
"It doesn't look really stable."
"We can always check it out in the store," Erin offered, flipping the page, "Cribs in general, maybe we should check out in the store."
"Or, we can just get this one," he replies, holding up the booklet to show his crib pick.
"Oh no," Lindsay laughs, shaking her head, "I am not putting my baby in that."
Jay shuts the book and chuckles, "What? It's like an antique!"
"Or in other words, it's old, it's used and I'm not sure whether that'll pass any type of safety inspection."
He opens the book and takes another look at it, "Okay…maybe you're right. We should just look for an actual crib in the store."
"…maybe we should look for the stroller and the car seat in the store as well. We can ask the employees questions and tell them any concerns."
"Yeah," Jay nods in immediate agreement.
"We can choose a color scheme; it'll make choosing furniture easier and we can always-" Erin's words are interrupted by a knock at the door. She slides the book of wallpaper designs in front of him while pushing the paint samples to the side, "I'll get the door."
"Ask who's there first!"
"Yes dad," Erin laughs.
Lindsay goes to the side window and peeks outside –it's Burgess. She looks tired, worn-out and just absolutely exhausted. Her eyes were strung out and wide as she continues to beat against the front door with the bottom of her opened palm. Erin quickly acts the moment she notices her friend is on the verge of tears; she swings the front door open, "I really need my best friend."
"Come on in," Erin asserts, waving for her friend to enter, "I'm just making dinner."
Kim can smell the aroma of food cooking and instead of entering into the house, she takes a step back, "I don't want to intrude."
"Come inside Kimberly. You can join us." Erin responds. She doesn't give her friend another chance to reject and instead reaches for her arm and pulls her inside. She shuts the door and locks it, "It's just Burgess babe!" She calls out to Halstead.
The two walk down the hallway –with Burgess slowly taking off her jacket. She steps into the kitchen and the aroma of whatever her friends are about to have for dinner becomes a blessing to her nostrils. It smells amazing. Burgess spots Jay sitting at the dining room table and waves at him; she drapes her jacket around the back of a chair. Halstead is watching; wallpaper samples are in his hands and they're long forgotten as he looks over to meet Erin's eyes, "I'll take these floorplans upstairs," he quickly shuffles everything into one pile, and finish looking through them." Erin nods and silently thanks Jay for offering to leave the room. Burgess stands to the side of the table and her eyes stare off into the direction Jay disappeared in, "Floorplans?" She averts her eyes towards Lindsay for explanation, "Floorplans for what?"
"…the nursery," Erin nonchalantly answers, walking over to check on dinner in the oven.
Burgess' hand immediately flies to cover her mouth, "Oh my gosh, I interrupted at the worst moment possible. I'll leave." She reaches for her jacket, but Erin swats her hand away.
"Stay."
"Where's the nursery going to be?"
Erin pulls a seat out for her friend to sit, "Well considering this is a three bedroom house, we want to keep the guest bedroom and change the office into a nursery considering we never use it. And the office is right beside our bedroom so when the baby finally sleeps in the nursery, the walk wouldn't be as far as if we were to put the baby in the guestroom."
Erin pulls out a seat and drags it towards Burgess; she sits in front of her best friend and while she looks at Kim, she notices her best friend's attention is on something else. Her eyes are staring downwards at the print out paint samples lying on the table. She slides them closer and drifts her eyes over the colors, "Are these-"
"They sure are," Erin bites her bottom lip and nods.
"There are different shades of pink, purple, yellow, green, orange and white. Are you-"
Lindsay smiles, "We're having a girl."
It seems whatever problem Burgess has had suddenly disappeared. She jumps to her feet and pulls her friend up in order to hug her as tight as humanly possible, "Oh my fucking gosh!"
"Shush," Erin whispers, hugging her friend back, "We weren't telling people yet."
Kim pulls away, "Wait," her hands remain wrapped around Erin's upper arms, "Are you saying that I'm the first to know?"
"Yes, and we want to surprise Voight. He already has a grandson so to have a granddaughter would be great."
Burgess is beaming, and bouncing restlessly on her feet, "We're having a girl!" She claps.
"No, we're having a girl," Halstead announces his presence with a correction of Kim's words; he walks into the kitchen and wraps his arm around Lindsay's lower waist, "You told her."
"She practically figured it out on her own."
Jay smiles and pecks the side of his wife's head, "Babe, why does Burgess think our kid is hers?"
"If I had an answer for that I would tell you," Erin laughed.
Burgess walks around the dining room table and approaches the glowing parents-to-be. They're standing, his arm around his wife's waist, and Kim stands before Jay, "Congratulations Papa Jay. It's a girl." She pats his shoulder enthusiastically.
"Thanks Kim," Jay replies, nodding with gratitude, "Don't go telling anymore people."
She positions her fingers and slides them across her lips, "My lips are sealed."
"Now," Erin rotates herself to face him –chest to chest, "I thought you were going upstairs." Her chin rests upon his hardened chest as he peers down at her.
"I forgot the paint samples."
"You sure did," she chuckles, drawing back.
"I just came to get them."
Erin scoops them into one pile, "Here. Take them."
"Thanks," he says, pecking her lips and taking a hold of the samples. Seconds later, he disappears back upstairs, leaving his wife and her best friend in the kitchen to discuss whatever brought Burgess over. Lindsay turns back to find Kim staring at her; her eyes are wide and filled with moisture, a slick and watery teardrop falls from her eye, "You two are adorable."
"You didn't think that a few weeks ago."
"Yeah, well, a few weeks ago Ruzek and I were breaking up and you two were going through some craziness."
"Alright, now what's the matter?"
Kim looks at the staircase; she doesn't want anyone to overhear and with Jay already managing to walk in on their earlier conversation, she's nervous he'll walk in on the next. She just wanted to talk to her best friend, maybe receive a little advice and then get out of their way for the remainder of the night. Erin seemed to pick up on it all. Burgess wasn't able to hide her emotions, at all; it was a constant struggle for her. And because Lindsay knew that her best friend was holding back on her words because of her husband's sudden interruption, she waved for her to follow her to the living room. It was further than the kitchen and the stairwell. No one could overhear what's being discussed.
"I came here for girl chat" Burgess admits, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "and I feel even more comfortable having girl chat with you knowing you are carrying a girl; so I don't mind her listening in." Kim tries to make light of the situation but Erin steers it back on course.
"Is this about Ruzek?"
"How did you know?"
"It could be because everything has been about Ruzek for the last few weeks," Erin remarks, taking a seat beside Burgess on the couch.
Burgess releases a loud and strangled breath, "I know Erin. And it's irritating. I broke up with him. I want to be able to move on from him! I absolutely hate it when my ex tells me that he's here if I need him. I mean…where the hell was he when we were together and I needed him?" She ranted and stared at the fireplace positioned across from the couch she's sitting on, "And I didn't want Halstead to hear because I know he and Ruzek are the male equivalent to me and you, and I can't afford for Adam to hear that this breakup is affecting me just as much as it is him. This is just too much right now."
"What do you need from me?" Erin kindly asks, rubbing soothing circles against her friend's back, "You want to vent? I can listen. You need advice? I may have a few quotes up my sleeve. Just tell me what you need."
"You're my best friend," Kim comments, turning to face her friend completely; she kicks off her shoes and draws her knees up to her chest, "You're the person who's supposed to talk me out of choking my ex-boyfriend." Her feet are planted firmly on the couch cushion and her arms are wrapped around her bended legs.
"And talking you out of choking Ruzek is what I shall do," Erin asserts, using the arm of the couch to push herself to her feet, "My personal advice…move on."
"Really?" Burgess looks up at her friend in disbelief, "Please don't tell me when baby Halstead comes to you for relationship advice and motivation you won't be saying move on."
"No," Erin chuckles; her hands fly into the air as she steps back, "let me finish. Move on Kim. If you don't want to be with him, move on. It's okay. Wallowing in misery isn't going to get you there. Now, if you want to be with him, be with him. Love him. Enjoy him. That's okay too. You just need to know what you want because you may have broken up with him, but someone who is ready to move on wouldn't still be this upset over a break up they initiated over a month ago."
Kim's forehead flops against her bended knees, "That's easier said than done."
"Why did you break up with him?"
"He's childish. He's not ready to grow up," Burgess complained, dropping her bended legs and leaning back into the seat, "I want to settle down, get married, buy a house, and have a baby and all of that other good stuff. He's not ready for any of that and I'm not getting any younger Erin!"
"Don't rush to any of that until you're ready."
"I am ready."
"No you're not," Erin exclaimed confidently, "I'm barely ready and I've been married for six years. No one is ever really ready to have a baby until you have a baby Kim," she walks –or in other words wobbles- back and forth in front of her friend, "It all looks like sunshine and roses until you're living and working with your husband, and you see him every day and everywhere, and you're carrying a baby who has caused you absolute hell in your first trimester and-
"Hey, don't talk about her like that," Kim defends, pointing a playful finger at Erin in fake rage.
Erin flops down beside her, "My point is…do you love him?"
"I do. I love him a lot."
"Shouldn't you fight for your relationship then?"
"I just love myself more."
Lindsay pats the top of Kim's head, "Thatta girl," she chuckles loudly when Burgess pushes her hand away, "I can't argue with that."
The smile on Kim's face falters; when she pushed Erin's hand away, her own came into contact with Lindsay's ring, it was a reminder that her friend was married –most if not all of her friends were married, and she was still unwed and now single, "I should just face the fact," her hands fumble together after her head glumly drops, "I'm going to be an unwed, childless and-"
"Hey!" Erin interrupts, snapping her fingers in her friend's direction, "That's enough of that!"
"What? It's true!"
"I'm pregnant so I'm very emotional right now. If you laugh, I'll laugh. If you cry, I'll cry. So please, for my sake, choose wisely."
Burgess used the bottom palms of her opened hands to run across her eyes. She dried them, but they almost immediately watered back up. Fortunately, Erin wasn't looking. She was using the arm of the coach to push herself to her feet again. Lindsay could smell the delicious aroma of the food spreading through the house –it served to be a reminder that she needs to check on it.
"This is going to sound so needy."
Erin walks out of the living room, "I can assure you it's not!" Her voice is loud enough for Burgess to hear from the kitchen.
"I really need my best friend."
Lindsay turns off the oven, "And you have me."
"But you're about to have a baby…you're going to be occupied."
Erin reappears in the living room, "Never too occupied to help a friend."
"What if I need someone to talk to?"
"I got two ears."
"What if I'm at home alone in my apartment?"
"I'm a phone call away."
"And what if I jump off a bridge, would you be beside me on the way down?"
They both chuckle simultaneously; Erin is the first to calm as she responds to Kim's question, "How about I stop you from jumping off that bridge? And if that doesn't work, I can always wait at the bottom to catch you."
Burgess smiles and nods, "I like the sound of that." She sniffs.
A silence falls over the group; it's absolutely quiet. It isn't awkward though. Erin can tell that Kim has something on her mind. For whatever reason she came over, it wasn't all fully discussed. She's looking at Erin with contemplation in her eyes; she's trying to examine Lindsay, trying to see what sort of mood she was in before delving deeper into her next concern.
"Please, for the sake of the silence in the room, just spit it out."
And she does, "I've been thinking about asking West out."
An immediate response isn't given. Erin wants to choose her words wisely. She knows Burgess and she knows West. She knows they'll never work out. Tyler has no interest in her. And Kim is just desperate right now and it's affecting her judgment. She doesn't truly have an attraction towards West, at least Erin hoped she didn't. Lindsay runs her hand through her hair and blatantly sighs, "I don't think you should."
"You're married Erin. You can't call dibs on him too."
Lindsay's taken aback –she's bewildered, "I don't want him. He just doesn't want the same things that you do."
"I deserve a good man."
"You do, but Tyler's not it."
"And why is that?"
Erin backs away; she doesn't want to talk about Tyler, "Let's stop with the guy talk," she walks over towards the wine cabinet, "Let's talk about something less complicated," she pulls both cabinet doors open, "And I have something that's going to cheer you up." Within seconds, she pulls out a bottle of wine.
Burgess sits up, "You can't drink." She growls in reminder.
"I know I can't, but it doesn't mean you shouldn't," she grabs two wine glasses and walks over, "While you pour yourself a glass, I'm going to pour myself a glass of grape juice. It's the closest thing to wine because grapes, you know?"
"You need this," Kim sadly declines.
"You need it more."
"I drove here."
"You can spend the night in the guest room."
"I really want a glass of wine."
"…then what's taking you so long to pour it?"
"I'll be drinking alone."
Erin sets the two wine glasses down onto the coffee table, "I know it's not the same, but I'll be drinking a glass of juice. I'm drinking wine with you in spirit. Now take it," she extends the bottle of their favorite wine, "And this time next year, I'll have a glass with you; my treat."
"Whoa…whoa now…" Burgess sits up straight and takes the bottle from her friend, "This time next year," her eyes follow Erin as she disappears into the direction of the kitchen, "why the long wait?" Kim stands up, a firm grip around the bottle of wine as she waits for a response.
"I'm considering breast feeding," Erin reemerges in the living room, holding a jug of grape juice, "And I don't know if it's weird or not, but Platt has been leaving me baby pamphlets on my desk and I started reading it, and the benefits are pretty good." Lindsay picks up her own wine glass and pours herself half a cup full. She hears Burgess sigh and Erin looks over; Kim is staring down at the bottle of wine in her hands and she consistently reads the brand over and over again. She sees the bottle opener extended towards her, "Take it."
"I really want that drink."
"…then pour it."
Kim takes the bottle opener, "That's a really good wine."
"That's why I'm trying to get you to open it up!"
Burgess hesitates and the bottle opener hovers above the cork, "We should save it for a special occasion."
"Being alive is the special occasion," Erin asserts, lifting up her glass of grape juice, "Now open it up and pour yourself a damn glass."