Cat and Mouse

by Sincerely Tiffany

A new detective temporarily joins Intelligence to help identify, locate and capture a serial killer who has plagued the Chicago streets for weeks. However, when he sets his sights upon a happily married Erin, her marriage isn't the only thing she's at risk of losing.

11. Tattoo

When there hasn't been a killing in the last few months, people start to relax, people begin moving on, people start to forget and stop living in fear. The pressure from their superiors strengthens as the media's presence starts to fade away due to more current news. It gives the team the opportunity to take a deep breath, relax while also maintaining focus on the case. Erin manages to keep track of how long they've worked on the case by the timing of her pregnancy. She's currently twenty-five weeks pregnant; that's a little over six months. They've been working on this case for a total of seven months. The case files in front of them had gotten thicker and heavier the more information they found; everything inside wasn't important, but they didn't want to throw something out that could later be useful and vital to the case.

Erin shifts for the fifth time that day; her butt is sore in the seat and her stomach is repeatedly being assaulted by the baby's foot. Kick after kick, they grow stronger and harder. In the beginning, when the baby kicked for the first time while she and Jay were at a counseling appointment, it had been a shared moment between the two parents-to-be that she'll never forget. She stopped talking, turned to her husband, grabbed his hand and let him feel. They ended their session early that day to celebrate with dinner and a movie. Any kicks after that though was tiring and sometimes aching; if the kick is against her ribs, it's even more painful. The only people besides Halstead to seem to love and want to feel every single kick was Ruzek and Burgess. Her stomach was like a hand magnet when around them, no matter where they were. The baby kicks again and she jerks forward; her hand immediately flies to the area suffering the brunt force of their baby's foot. They've been at work for two hours so far and her little soccer player must have been having a tough match inside her stomach at the rate and frequency of the kicks. Erin shifts in her seat again; her thoughts are divided between the occasional kicking in her belly and the fact that they've been here for two hours and Burgess has yet to show up or call in to say that she's running late. This isn't like her, which is why she is now calling her friend for the fifth time and once again leaving another voicemail.

"Where are you? I'm getting worried. Call me back okay. Bye," Erin sighs, and hangs up once her message is delivered. She sets her phone down and looks up to see Halstead bringing breakfast over. A delicious breakfast that consists of orange juice, a donut and a breakfast sandwich from the deli down the street made her entirely too happy for her to admit to anyone. Being able to eat what she wants whenever she wants without any judgment or shame was an idea that is part of her picturesque world.

Jay sets the bottle of juice down, "Burgess still isn't answering."

"No, and I'm officially worried," Erin answers, rolling her seat further up to her desk.

"Burgess is a big girl; she's fine, she probably just overslept," he replied, pulling out his wife's breakfast to set down in front of her, "didn't she have a long night again? I thought she went on a date last night with some accountant guy?"

"Ssh," Erin immediately silenced him, "Kim doesn't want Adam to know," she turns back to face her husband after being assured that Ruzek didn't overhear, "She went on a date last night and she text me our code word when she made it home…with him, and that's the only thing stopping me from driving over there. I don't want to walk in on, you know?"

"Yeah, I do know and I would prefer not to be reminded of it," Jay remarked, withdrawing his own food from the takeout bag, "now, in other news, how is the little lady treating you?"

"Besides ripping apart my internal organs?" Lindsay joked, quirking a brow at the smirk lining his face, "she's treating me fine," Erin unravels the food wrapper from around her sandwich, "And I get the baby is growing and has to move around in response to external stimuli, because she's stretching and for normal development, but does she have to kick so hard and often?"

Jay extends his hand to the top of her round belly, "I think it's amazing."

"Of course you do, you're not the one that's pregnant," Erin quips, using both hands to lift her sandwich. She was a woman surrounded by and working with men, she bit into that sandwich with her mouth open as wide as she could possibly stretch it. Jay chuckles as she sinks her teeth into her food.

"I'll leave you to eat in peace," he backs away.

With her mouth full, she covers it to respond, "I'm still worried about Burgess. This conversation only took my mind off of her for a few minutes."

"Won't you give her another call?"

Erin nods, sits down her sandwich and lifts her phone back up to redial Kim's number. And it rings. Kim hears it. She hears her phone ringing for the umpteenth time, but she's too much in a hurry to stop and answer it. She's running late. With her shoes in hand, she's running through the underground parking garage in the direction of her car. It's dark. No sunlight is emitted in the underground garage. She's in a hurry. She got back late last night after a night out with Tyler; Erin doesn't know, but Burgess went against her advice and actually asked him out –it was a mistake though. She got home extremely late after spending her night with a man who only talked about himself. Her lie was that she's going on a date with a boring accountant. The boring part was the truth, but the accountant part was a flat out lie. She wasn't up for a lecture and now that she knows there won't be a second date, she wasn't up to hear Lindsay say I told you so. It was best that Erin didn't know. She already kicked herself for not listening, and after dinner and a movie, he took her to the park to continue his talk, all about himself.

Kim's phone rings again, and she's forced to ignore it as her hand shuffles through the contents of her purse. She's standing at the driver's side of her car, her hand digging through her purse in search of her car keys. She's growing exasperated. She hears them moving around, but she doesn't feel them. Another sigh of frustration is released, but it is cut off half way. It's unable to fully come out because something is preventing it. A beaded necklace is clenched around her neck after it was swung around countless times. Her purse drops. The shoes in her hands fall. Her hands instinctively fly to the beaded chain and she's trying to claw at her. Burgess is yanked back. She's clawing at the piece of metal as it starts tearing into her skin. Her air supply is cut off. She's seeing spots. Her vision is blurred. Burgess knows she's losing consciousness; she knows that once it's gone, once she stops fighting, it's over. In the reflection of her car window, she sees a masked man, but due to her failing vision, she's unable to see his eyes. And against everything in her, her eyes close; they close for a few seconds, before she springs them back open. He tightens his grip around the chain and pulls harder and harder until all consciousness is lost. The masked man releases the chain and watches as she drops to the ground.

Her chest rises and falls with each heavy breath she takes. She's still alive, but he knows it isn't for long. The man lowers himself to his knees, rips open her buttoned-up shirt and withdraws a marker from his hands. He sees it; the butterfly tattoo. It's on the right side of her lower abdomen. And with the black marker, he traces an outline around it. It's sloppy. He doesn't have the time to take her back to his place, remove the tattoo and then finish the job like he did his previous victims -except for Trent. The masked man shoves the marker back into his pocket and when he pulls his hand out this time, there's a scalpel in it. Without any hesitation, he starts carving. He's tracing it along the outline of the black circle he drew, and with an opened plastic bag next to him, he has every interest in taking and bagging it. He makes sure he doesn't stab her –that's not his method- he grazes the knife around the black circle and with each scrape, the knife digs in deeper and deeper. It's all superficial; he traces the knife around the circle and this time it draws blood –a few specks.

"Hey!" The masked man's head shoots up and he immediately identifies the source of the interruption –there are four men approaching, "What are you doing?" He shoves the knife into his pocket, grabs the plastic bag and takes off. Once he sees the men begin to run over, he sprints off. The men separate; two go after him and the other two tend to Burgess –she's stirring awake. She hears a male's voice talking on the phone, giving their location to the police dispatch. Another man is helping her sit up and unraveling the beaded necklace from around her neck.

Her vision is spotted and blurred. She's coming to, but not as fast as she hoped. Her hand is pressed against her forehead as her eyes struggle to register her surroundings. She feels someone's hand press against her mid-back; whose ever hand it was supported most of her weight as she maintained a seated position. Whispers of worry and questions of concern overwhelm her ears, "I need, I need my phone," she points in the direction of her dropped purse.

"We called an ambulance and the police," one of the men informed walking over towards her.

"My phone," she mutters, feeling her blurred vision straighten out; she's pointing towards her purse, and the man who spoke earlier walks over to grab it.

The other man remains sitting beside her; his hand pressed against her back, "Two of our friends went after that guy. Are you okay miss?"

"I need to call my boss," she whispers, digging through her purse the second she got it.

"You're hurt. You're bleeding."

And for the first time since waking up, she looks down. Her shirt is spread wide open. Her white bra is stained with drops of blood. Two trickles of blood slowly flow downwards to the cracks of her belt buckle. The cut isn't deep. It'll only need a few stitches. She extends her phone towards the man sitting beside her, "I'm Detective Burgess. I need you to call Sergeant Voight."

The man nods and takes a hold of her phone. He immediately scrolls through her contacts and calls him. Ambulance sirens fill the background and they drown him out as he informs her sergeant on his identity, his whereabouts and what he witnessed. Seconds afterwards he hung up and she automatically knew that Voight and the team were on their way.

"Your neck…" the man standing called out, pointing towards the area, "it's bruising."

Her hand flies to it and there's a sharp pain the second her fingers lightly rub the wounded skin, "It isn't life threatening," she can assess the damages of her injuries just by the feel of them.

"…maybe you should let us figure that out," the paramedic makes his presence known by his comment. With his medical bag in hand, he stoops low beside Burgess while his partner walks around her to assess all the damage done. The paramedic beside her, presses his gloved hands gently around her neck to check the bones and tissue, "Do you think you can get up and walk to the back of our truck?"

"Yeah." To prove it, she pushes her hands against the ground in order to rise up. Both paramedics and the two men with her stand close to catch her just in case. Once she's standing upright, she wobbles and holds her forehead. Her head is still getting itself together. She feels the paramedics take a hold of her arm and walk her over to the back of their ambulance; they sit her down, and while one paramedic gave her a quick checkup, the other tended to her abdomen. The woman cleaned the superficial wound before looking up, "You'll need six stitches. We can give them to you here or we can take you down to Chicago Med and-"

"Do it here."

"We don't have anything to numb you. We ran out and we were planning on stocking up at the hospital. It's still your choice. Some people choose to go without it."

Burgess looks the female paramedic in the eye, "Stitch me up. I need to stay here…wait for my boss. I have to give the team my statement. I have to wait until their friends," she points at the two men who saved her, "comes back. I need to make sure they're okay."

Once consent was given, the female paramedic prepped the needle and seconds before the Intelligence team pulled up –sirens blaring- the needle is inserted. It stung. And with each incision, the burn increased. Her eyes are squeezed shut and she opens them when her team runs over. Ruzek is hovering over the shoulder of the paramedic applying stitches to her abdomen. Dawson and Atwater are speaking with the two men who called Voight from her cell. Olinsky is getting an update from the male paramedic on her injuries. Voight and Halstead are standing beside her seated form, waiting for her to talk –to say anything. And she was about to speak, but she sees Erin; she sees her wobbling over. Kim pulls her eyes away and looks to Jay, "What's she doing here? She shouldn't be out here."

"We tried to convince her to stay," Jay answered, setting his hand upon her shoulder, "How are you feeling? What happened?"

"It's not safe for any of us to be out here, especially her." Burgess remarks, pointing as Erin continues her approach.

"We didn't have time to argue with her about staying at the precinct. She was worried about you Kim. And stress isn't good for the baby, she needed to see that you were okay in order to calm down," Jay explained, squeezing her shoulder in support, "Now tell us what happened?"

"It was the killer," Burgess said through clenched teeth; she's trying to ignore the pain in her lower abdomen. Her adrenaline had worn off and any amount of pain that was once overlooked had now risen. She involuntarily reaches for Ruzek's hand and squeezes it as the paramedic finishes up the last stitch. She turns her head to face Halstead in order to finish answering his question, "Two guys went after him." And the second those words left her mouth, the two men reappeared completely out of breath.

"We lost him," one guy proclaimed, hands resting on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath, "We chased him down three blocks, but he just disappeared."

"How's her neck?" Adam's voice chimes into the conversation, although his question is directed at the paramedics. He's worried and he isn't a doctor, but the bruising around her neck looked serious. It was shaded dark and miniature cuts of dried blood were sprinkled around. The sharp beads on the necklace had scraped against her flesh, just like it had done to the previous victims.

Voight leaves Erin and Adam by Burgess' side as the paramedics continue to give her a brief assessment. He waves for the two men to follow him and Halstead as they walk to the side of the ambulance. Both men –still breathing heavily- followed the sergeant and detective towards the front of the ambulance. It wasn't as loud and filled with chatter from everything else going on. Hank didn't want the guys to get scared; it was best for the witnesses to simply think they stopped a potential robber or assault. They couldn't afford for the witnesses to panic at finding out they helped to prevent another murder at the hands of a serial killer. Voight wasn't going to go into details with them; he just needed to know what they know. Hank allows for the both of them to catch their breath, before posing his question, "Did you see what he looked like?" Both of their heads shake no, and he prods for more information, "What was he wearing?"

"Black sweatpants," one exasperatedly exclaims.

"A black jacket," the other man adds in, "and a ski mask."

The first one gets his breathing together, "he also had on bright like neon green shoes." The sound of police sirens fills the inside of the underground parking garage and once the officers hopped out of their vehicle, Voight shouted an order, "Our suspect, black sweatpants, black jacket, ski mask and neon green shoes! FAN OUT!" The order is direct and without any questions, they follow it. The perp was still out there. This was as close to him as they could get.

Halstead leaves Voight's side and rushes towards the back of the ambulance. Burgess is standing on her two feet, her shirt –covered in blood stains- buttoned up and secured over her freshly bandaged wound. Ruzek is holding her face in his hands, giving her an overlook; his eyes examined every inch of her body. Erin is watching –a small smile on her lips as she witnesses a private moment shared between her best friend and her husband's best friend. As she watches and enjoys the scene in front of her, she feels Jay's hand slide around her back; he's nudging her forward. And she finds herself stumbling over her own two feet as she tries to keep up, "Why are you walking so fast? Where are we going?"

"You're going to the car," Jay answers, pulling the passenger side door open, "Hop in."

"Jay-"

"Erin," he asserts, his hand holding the passenger door wide open, "get in the car."

She sees the look on his face. None of this is up for argument. She wants to stay updated on the case and finish checking in on Burgess, but she'll have to do that later. Lindsay takes a hold of his offered hand and steps into Voight's truck. She's comfortably nestled into the leather of the chair and her eyes look in the side mirror to watch what's occurring behind the vehicle. She hates being sidelined, but she understood why it needed to happen. She wanted, needed, to be where the action was, not pushed aside like a defenseless pedestrian on the street. Pregnancy won't stop her from doing her job. She's just as useful as she was before she got pregnant. Erin sighs glumly at the sight of police tape being put up to block off the crime scene; she was missing out on everything. A pout is evident on her lips causing for Jay to lean into the vehicle and press his lips against hers. She immediately relaxes. Her hardened lips moved against his as his hands cup the side of her face, "Thank you for not arguing with me," he whispers; his lips moving against hers in the process. They separate and she turns back to face the rearview mirror, desperately wanting to at least watch what's going on. Halstead closes the door and jogs back over to the scene.

Erin is left in the passenger seat of Voight's truck biting her lip and twiddling her thumbs. She was growing antsy at desperately needing something to do. The baby kicked and her hand immediately flies to the area her daughter's foot hit against. She rubbed the area to soothe her daughter and her skin; that kick really hurt. There's another kick seconds afterwards. She's anxious and worried and her daughter was feeding off of that energy. Erin needed to calm down. Against everything in her, she pulls her eyes away from the rearview mirror, leans back in her seat and closes them. She blocks out the noise of approaching sirens, chatter coming from the forming crowd and the police radio in the car constantly giving orders and locations. Erin blocked that out, only for the sound of her ringing phone to fill her ears, "Hello!" She doesn't bother to check to see who it was.

"Hey Erin!"

From the sound of Tyler's voice, Lindsay sits up, "What do you want? We're a little busy."

"I just got into work," Tyler answered, taking a seat against the edge of Kim's desk, "Mouse isn't here. Platt's on lunch. And everyone else in Intelligence is gone."

"We're at the underground parking garage at Kim's place. She was attacked."

"What?" He pulls out his car keys and descends down upon the stairs, "Is she okay?"

"She's been better, but she's alive so I'm not complaining."

"Does she remember anything?"

"…not much."

"Anything about who hurt her?"

"I don't think so," Erin responds, looking back up to the rearview mirror, "I haven't heard much, but I think he got away. We know it was the killer who attacked her, but she didn't get a good look at him. The police are searching the premises. Hopefully, he left something behind."

"Okay, I'm on my way."

Erin hangs up. She pockets her cell phone and resumes looking out of the rearview mirror. As she watches the scene unfold, she eventually focuses in on her eyes. Since increasing her prescription, they've been getting better. She's even able to use them with her contacts in her eyes, and thinking of it, causes for Erin to withdraw her eye drops from the cup holder she sat them inside. She's trying to do two things at once, she's unscrewing the cap of the prescription bottle while keeping her eyes focused in the reflection of the rearview mirror. She's watching, and at the same time, she steadies her hand while aiming the eye drops into her eye, "Ugh, damn it," the drop falls to her cheek, and she smoothly wipes it away with her finger, "stupid eye drops!" Lindsay refills the tube and squeezes another drop into her eyes. She blinks and allows for the eye drops to settle and once her vision focuses back in on the scene before her, she sees two officers approaching her sergeant, holding the arms of a man. He's yanking and struggling to pull himself out of the grip of both officers. And as Lindsay watches the bearded man being pushed to his knees, she reaches for the door handle.

Her hand hesitates. She was told to stay inside, but that was before they caught the man matching the exact clothing description of Kim's attacker. Erin pushes the door open. She's prepared to step out of the vehicle, but her eyes spot Jay. He's covering Ruzek's back as they maintain eyes on the scene. Erin watches her husband, he's consistently looking over his shoulder as Voight and Olinsky handle their suspect, and the second he looks away, his eyes avert towards the truck. Instinctively, she slams the door shut. She couldn't go out there. Erin's eyes glance down to her rounded stomach, and she comes to terms with her choice to stay inside Voight's truck. It's for the best. It may not be what she would normally do, but the circumstances have changed.

Jay releases a deep breath the second he saw the door shut. He's happy she stayed. He didn't want her stressing and on her feet for too long. It couldn't have been good for her or the baby. Halstead and Ruzek had approached Voight, who is currently shouting and demanding answers from the man. He's frantic. His beard is peppered gray and his white skin is paling out of fear. He's looking around for someone to jump in, but no one budges. Olinsky approaches, leading the four witnesses over, "Is this him?"

"We're…we're not sure. It happened so fast and the man started running," one of the guys exclaimed; they had just met up at their friend's apartment and were planning on hitting the gym. They weren't expecting to be tangled up in this web.

"What's going on?" the surprised man's hands are pulled and held behind his back.

Another witness pointed at the man's outfit, "His clothes…the shoes, they're all the same."

"What?" the suspect exclaimed, glancing down at the oversized clothes, "These aren't mine! I…I found them in a dumpster! I swear! I'm a homeless guy…I scavenge through dumpsters."

Voight turns to face his team, "What do you think?"

"Dr. Charles did say that our killer is manipulative and a pathological liar," Olinsky quoted, referring to the man's plea of innocence, "He also said that our killer wouldn't take responsibility for his actions. It's possible that this is him, but it's also possible that it's not."

"Dawson and Atwater, I want you both to take our witnesses and get their official statements so they can be on their way," Voight ordered, before turning back to focus on the current matter, "We don't know what to believe right now and an underground parking garage isn't the place to figure it out. We're going to take him down to the station to answer a few questions," Hank turns to Olinsky and hands the detective his cellphone, "Call Dr. Charles and have him meet us there." Without any question, Olinsky takes the phone and walks off to a more silent part of the garage, leaving Voight to turn to Burgess next, "I want the paramedics to take you to the hospital."

"I'm fine," Burgess sighed, wrapping her arm gently around her waist, "The paramedics stitched me up. I'm good."

"I wasn't asking; it's an order. And I'll send Erin with you."

Burgess is forced to turn to the paramedics as Voight ventures off to retrieve Erin. It was safe for the both of them to be at the hospital and away from the precinct where they'll be questioning a possible serial killer. He wanted them far away from this man, especially if he is in fact the killer. Hank knocks against the passenger side window before tugging the door handle and pulling it open, "You're going to the hospital with Burgess."

Erin uses Hank's arm to help herself step out, "Why? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, but we want a doctor to look over her to be sure," his answer satisfies her. She was worried about Kim anyway. As her feet hit the ground, she's prepared to scurry over towards her best friend; however, Hank pulls her back, "Not so fast…I also need you to talk to Burgess. See if she remembers anything. And the killer tried to take her tattoo, see if she knows how he could have possibly found out about it."

Erin doesn't verbally respond –she answers with a direct nod of the head. She was still on the case. She had a job to do. She needed to be there to comfort Kim while also prodding for answers about this case. The paramedic helped her into the passenger seat, while Burgess and the male paramedic sat in the back. She needed to be strapped in safely and securely so it was voted for Lindsay to ride in the front. The sirens are kept off since this isn't an emergency. Erin waves at her husband out of the window as he escorts their first suspect towards the cop cruiser.

Dr. Charles was going to meet the team at the station and watch the interrogation on the other side of the two-way mirror. His sole purpose in being there is to see if their suspect has any psychopathic tendencies. Meanwhile, when that is underway, Erin and Kim arrive to the hospital. Lindsay seems to be more energized than her best friend –counterpart- the latter of whom isn't pregnant. Erin is leading Kim into the hospital and she approaches the first nurse she sees, "Hello, Hi, I need a doctor for my friend."

The nurse quickly scans Burgess and deems her injury as not serious, "Sign in and head to the waiting room."

"She needs a doctor now."

"We're busy right now," the nurse remarks, turning to walk away, but the angered pregnant woman reaches for and grabs her wrist.

"Please don't mistake or misinterpret my kindness for weakness," Lindsay retorts, releasing the nurse's wrist and crossing her arms over her protruding belly, "I'm not asking. I'm not requesting. I'm telling you, we need to see a doctor."

"Erin, it's okay."

She whips her head in Kim's direction, "No, it's not. You're hurt. That could be infected…and your neck, it…it could…it could be-" She finds herself uncontrollably growing emotional. The nurse uses this as her opportunity to step away while Erin remains standing in the center of the hospital lobby with Burgess. Her bottom lip is trembling and her facial muscles tighten, preparing for Erin to start crying at any second.

"You don't have to worry Erin," Kim asserts, throwing her arm around Lindsay's shoulder and leading her towards the front desk.

"Telling me not to worry won't make me stop worrying," Erin shrugs from within Kim's arm, she's clearly irritated, "The killer tried to kill you. He wanted you dead. You were unconscious, he was going to take your tattoo and then finish the job."

Bystanders deliver a skeptical and confusing look in Erin's direction after catching segments of her exclamation. She's worked up. The entire ride to the hospital gave her plenty of time and opportunity to think. She thought about every possible what if scenario. Erin starts to pace, anticipating Kim's response, which should be given at any second. She's trying to not interfere as her best friend checks into the hospital, but as she waits, she grows further impatient. Kim signs the last document and slides the clipboard towards Maggie, "You know I love you, right?" She turns to face Erin and grins at the sight of a smile on Lindsay's face.

Their arms intertwine, "Damn right you love me; it's kind of hard not to." They proceed to walk arm in arm towards the waiting room; it's pretty full, but two gentlemen offer a pregnant Erin and an obviously injured Burgess their seats. They send the two gentlemen a smile of gratitude and a nod of thanks as they take the seat.

Burgess and Lindsay sit side by side in the noisy and overcrowded waiting room. The injuries of the waiters ranged from all sorts of categories. They have a long time to wait and Erin figured she might as well get comfortable. She leans back, and stretches her legs out forward. Her eyes fall to Burgess and she sees the worried look on her friend's face. She's chewing her lower lip, her left leg was shaking and her forehead is starting to sweat –all signs pointing towards how anxious she is. Her leg is bouncing so fast, it causes Erin to lean forward and set her hand upon it, "How about we talk?"

"He tried to take my tattoo," Burgess informs, sighing loudly, "And now he ruined it."

Erin shifts in her seat to face her friend, "You know they say tattoos tell a story and so do scars."

"You're trying to make me feel better."

"Is it working?"

"No, not really…" Burgess nervously clears her dry and scratchy throat, "This scar is going to remind me of my naivety and my weakness."

"Let it remind you of your strength."

Burgess's eyes stare forward, "That's easier said than done, but I don't want to think about it," she uses the back of her thumbs to wipe across her eyes; everything that has happened to her today has finally caught up to her and it's now starting –trying- to take its toll on her. She turns her body slightly and presses a mock smile onto her face, "Take my mind off of it."

"Okay," Erin nodded, glancing up at the ceiling to think quickly, "Want to know a secret?" She looks back at her friend, a smile evident on her face, as she hoped it was contagious enough to tug a real one onto Kim's face.

"We don't have secrets."

"Of course we do."

Kim covers her heart, "I'm hurt." She jokes.

"Do you want to know or not?"

"Yes," Burgess releases a loud breath of air.

The mood grows serious. Burgess can already tell that whatever it is that Erin is about to disclose had been weighing heavily upon her. There's only so much comfortability the hard, plastic waiting room chairs offered, and while Lindsay continued to squirm in order to find a suitable position, her hands fumbled on her lap, "Ever since I got pregnant, I started reading a lot of pregnancy and delivery books so I know what to expect," her butt is getting restless and numb having so much weight holding it down onto the chair; she squirms, "And in most delivery books I've read, they mention that you should be mentally prepared just in case you have to have an emergency C-section," Erin hesitates, thinking to herself and trying to form her next thought; she sees the obvious confusion on Kim's face –her friend isn't picking up on where she's going with this, "Most women plan out their birthing experiences only for it to not go as planned. So I started looking into C-sections so I can be prepared for anything…and after reading lots and lots of mommy blogs, articles and pamphlets, I'm…" Erin meets her best friend's eyes, "I'm terrified of having one…a C-section that is."

"You won't though…"

Lindsay turns to face forward; she speaks in monotone, "You don't know that, the fear is a recent development, but it's apparently normal."

"Why are you scared? You're Erin Lindsay; you're not afraid of anything," Kim bumps her shoulder against Erin's and her friend doesn't react, she doesn't acknowledge it.

"Of course I am. I'm afraid of losing the people I love."

"I get that, but a C-section-"

"I've done a lot of reading," Lindsay cuts her off, "While waiting in the waiting room for my OB appointments, I've spoken to a lot of mothers and expectant mothers who have already had children and none of them had good C-section stories. I know it sounds stupid-"

This time Burgess cuts her off, "No. No. It's not."

Erin sniffs, "I just hate not being in control."

"I know."

"I'll be under anesthesia and I'll be going under a knife."

"You'll be fine."

"You don't know that," Lindsay asserts, talking over the rowdiness in the waiting room. She finally turns to face Burgess –relieving her bottom from its uncomfortable pressure against the plastic seat.

"What are you saying Erin?"

She hesitates. She avoids eye contact. She licks her lips, "…if something happens to me-"

"Stop right there," Kim sharply interrupts, pointing her index finger at Lindsay, "Don't say stuff like that. Nothing is going to happen to you."

"But if it does, they're going to need you."

"Erin-"

"My baby," Lindsay quickly interrupts whatever Burgess was prepared to say next, "my husband and my father are going to need you."

"Fine, I'll offer whatever help they accept."

"Thank you," Erin turns to face forward.

The busyness of the hospital takes over as they watch doctors and nurses run about, people in the waiting room complain about the wait time, and constant beeping of machines and doors opening and closing. It was distracting. Once people were called back by nurses, it seemed more people showed up. There was never an opportunity for silence or solitude because the waiting room remained crowded and loud. Burgess and Lindsay are both staring forward, and Kim takes it upon herself to speak next, "Just know, I'll offer help after beating your doctor's ass."

Erin's shoulders shake; she's laughing, "So sweet," she covers her heart with her hands to go along with Kim's joke.

"But it won't come to that."

The mood grows serious again and Erin shrugs, "Better safe than sorry."

"Alright fine," Burgess annoyingly throws her hands into the air, "but when the doctor wheels you out with that beautiful newborn in your arms, I'm going to say I told you so."

"You may be right."

"Let's move the subject along, k?"

They're just patiently waiting for time to pass. Erin's back aches and she feels forced to lean her head against Kim's shoulder. She closes her eyes and thinks about today's events. It was approaching noon and she was already tired. The events of today had worn her out and now that the hard part was over, it was all catching up to her. Burgess almost died. She was almost killed. And as the thought of losing her best friend ripped through her mind, she takes her hands and wipes them across her eyes, "Are you crying?"

She hears Burgess ask and her immediate response is to shake her head –to deny her true feelings, "I'm fine, it's just the hormones."

Kim sees right through her charade, "Erin-"

"Everything has been put into perspective, you know?" It doesn't take much for Lindsay to give in. Since starting couple's counseling with Jay, she had become much more open and approachable. She's starting to open herself up more.

"Yeah," Burgess agrees.

"Life is so short," She doesn't feel in control of her emotions. She sees Burgess, she sees the specks of blood on her shirt and starts thinking about everything that happened; it's hard not to when the victim is sitting next to you, trying to keep herself together and being strong for you.

"What's wrong? You can talk to me."

"Right now," Erin lifts her head from Kim's shoulder to look at her, "I don't need someone to talk to Kim; I need someone to just know that I'm not okay and give me a shoulder to cry on. You almost died."

"I'm fine."

"He knows where you live."

"He knows what building I live in; he may not know my apartment number."

Erin shakes her head, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, "I'm not taking the chance. You're staying with us until he's caught."

"Voight assigned officers to our homes."

"That officer was perched outside your apartment door, not in the parking garage. You're staying with us…end of discussion."

"Yes mom," Burgess salutes, earning a grin from Lindsay.

Erin shrugs in response, "I might as well get used to being called that."

"Yeah, only a few more months left to go."

"I know. Time has flown by."

The pair leans back in their seats and watch the chaos around them. Today had to be one of the worse days to come to the hospital. It seems most doctors and nurses were off today and the overcrowd of patients left the remaining doctors and nurses here stretched thin. To keep her distracted and to pass the time, Erin pulls out her phone. She's checking to see if there are any updates, but no messages have come through to her phone. She's about to pocket it, when she hears her name called, "Erin," she looks up at the familiar voice, "what are you doing here?" It's Will and he's walking over, "Do you have an appointment? Jay never mentioned anything. Is everything okay with the baby?"

Erin uses the arms of the chair to push herself to her feet, "I'm not here for me; I'm here for her."

"Hey Kim," Dr. Halstead notices her presence, and his eyes widen at the sight of her disheveled look; he sees her stand, and for the first time since he walked in, he spots specks of blood on her shirt, "What happened? I'm on break, but I'll make an exception for family."

Complaints of individuals who had been waiting longer were heard and ignored by the doctor. He leads Lindsay and Burgess out of the waiting area and towards the first open and available room. They're making a long story short, filling him in on everything that happened in the last few hours. Erin assured Will that his brother was safe at the precinct and they believed they arrested the person who did this. Will's grateful and glad that they're all okay. After sliding the curtain back, he points towards the hospital bed, "Take a seat and open up your shirt," He grabs a pair of latex gloves and slides them onto his hands.

Will pulls up a stool, "Erin there's a chair right there. You have a seat too." She doesn't argue or complain; her feet were starting to hurt. She takes a seat at the side of the room as she watches her brother-in-law look and examine Kim's wound, "The paramedics did a good job cleaning it and stitching it back up," he pulls the gloves off his hands, "It looks fine; I'll write you a prescription for some antibiotics to make sure it doesn't get infected though. I also want you to stay away from any physical activity; we don't want your stitches tearing."

"Okay," Burgess replied, buttoning her shirt back up.

"Come back in about two to three weeks, we'll take another look and see if we can cut the stitches." Will ordered, tossing the gloves into the nearby trashcan before heading towards the curtain, "I'll be right back. I'm going to write up your prescription."

"Thanks Will."

The curtain is closed behind him and once his presence is completely gone, Erin gets up. She takes a seat on the stool Will previously occupied. As she waits for her phone to ding, signaling she had a message or an update, she remembers the task Voight gave her. She's supposed to try and get information on how the killer knew she had a tattoo and whether or not she had any more info about her attacker, especially now that she's calmed and can finally relax. She's sitting on the stool, legs open and definitely more comfortable than how she was sitting in the waiting room. Lindsay slides the stool closer to her friend, "Hey Kim," she looks up at the sound of her name, "How did the killer know you had a tattoo?"

Burgess shrugs, "Besides you, Tyler, Ruzek and all of my previous boyfriends, no one-" she cuts herself off and Erin knows that she remembered something, "Shit. It's on my dating profile."

This sparks Lindsay's interest, "You signed up for a dating profile…"

"Yeah."

"And you didn't tell me."

Kim sighs, "I signed up for it last night after my date with Tyler."

"You had a date with Tyler. You went out with him?"

"Yeah, and I don't need you telling me I told you so. All he talked about was either himself or you. There won't be a second date, I let him down easy and once I got home, I signed up."

"Did you match with anyone? Voight would want to know." And to be honest, Erin kind of did too. This dating site was news to her and her role of best friend was starting to seep into her role of detective. She's curious to know, but her face remains stoic at the expression on Kim's face.

"Erin, no, that's embarrassing."

"What? No it's not."

"I have to go to a website to find love."

Lindsay pats her knee to assure her, "There's nothing embarrassing about that. Why does dating websites have such a bad stigma against them?"

"Because I can't find a man in my own life so I have to put myself out there to find someone," Kim snaps, pushing herself off the bed and onto her feet.

Erin desperately wants to probe further, but she needs answers that apply to the case, "Did you message anyone?"

"I talked to like two guys."

"And?"

"And one saw that I mentioned that I checked the box on having a tattoo on my profile. He wanted to know what it was of."

Erin pulls out her cell phone, "What's his name?" She's prepared to text the response to Jay so they can look into it. After posing her question, Burgess withdraws her own cell phone from her pocket. She goes to the app and Erin waits patiently for a reply, "Gregory Bishop.

Will reenters the room as Erin sends the name of a new possible suspect to her husband. Even though they had one suspect in holding, it was still their job to look at other people. They needed to be sure about this. As Lindsay quietly texts her husband, Will gives Burgess her prescription and bids them farewell; now he's about to take his official break.

"Alright," Lindsay mutters, pocketing her cell phone and rising to her feet, "Let's go put the order for your meds in and then head to work. We can pick them up when we're on our way to my house after our shift is over."

"I'm not staying with you."

"Yes you are," Erin leaves no room for further argument.

"And what?" Kim's hands fly into the air as she abruptly stops in the hallway, "We're going to have a pillow fight, roast marshmallows in the indoor fireplace, tell scary stories and stay up all night and pretend like none of this happened?"

"If it makes you feel better, then yes."

Burgess dryly chuckles and shakes her hand. She extends her hand to Erin, and waits for her to set her own hand within Kim's palm, "Let's get back to work."

As Erin and Kim head to the pharmacy to drop off Kim's prescription, Mouse is running a background check on Gregory Bishop. While his name is running through the system, the interrogation is still underway. Voight and Olinsky are the ones in the room with their suspect, Dawson, West and Ruzek are in the adjoining room with Dr. Charles watching over the interrogation. The questioning is heated. Evident biases are present as Voight questions him as if he knows for a fact that this man is their perpetrator. The man is utterly confused and clueless about what is going on. Dr. Charles watches –practically examines- every quirk, behavior and response of the suspect, "He's no psychopath," without taking his eyes off of the frantic and manic suspect he continues, "He's too wild and hysterical to be the killer," they hear the suspect start to cry out of fear, "the killer you all are looking for will be calm when confronted. He's too sloppy to be the killer; he would leave evidence at the scene…a lot of it."

Dawson sighs and knocks against the two-way mirror. Voight and Olinsky end their interrogation, leaving the suspect in the room, to walk out and join the remainder of their team in the hallway. Once the interrogation room door is shut tight, Voight turns to face his unit, "What do you have for me?"

"That's not our guy…"

Antonio's words push Voight to face Dr. Charles, "Are you sure?"

"He's wearing the clothes the witnesses described," Olinsky added into the discussion.

"Maybe he's telling the truth, maybe he actually did get them from a dumpster," Atwater casually mentioned, shrugging his shoulders in thought.

"I hope you're right," Voight looks from Dr. Charles and averts his eyes towards Dawson, "Release him."

Antonio disappears into the interrogation room to take the handcuffs off the suspect and officially release him. Tyler is silent. He's frustrated and pacing circles around the team.

"What's wrong with you?" Voight grunts, growing easily frustrated at Tyler's antics.

"You all can seriously do much better than that!" Tyler shouts, obviously overstepping his boundaries; he's shoving his finger in the direction of Dawson escorting the released suspect down the hall, "We had him! He was guilty! I can't believe you let him go because of some overrated psychiatrist! You all are as useless as a screen door on a fucking submarine!"

"Back down Detective West! Now! That's an order," Voight demands, shoving his finger against the center of Tyler's chest, pushing the younger man against the back wall.

"You had him," Tyler takes a deep breath, struggling to calm himself down, "You had him and you let him go. When, because we all know it's going to happen again, when he kills, it's on you. It's on all of you because you let him go." West shoves Voight's finger off his chest and storms back in the direction of the bullpen.

Halstead and Mouse look up from the computer screen to see Tyler storming back into the bullpen. He takes a seat in Erin's empty desk chair and irately bounces his leg up and down in uneasiness. The remainder of the team gathers into the bullpen, and when Halstead makes eye contact with Ruzek before averting his eyes towards Tyler, Ruzek simply shakes his head, requesting for him not to ask or say anything. Halstead lets it go, knowing he'll get the full story from Adam later. As the background check continues to run on Mouse's computer screen, the team gathers around his desk.

"Anything yet?" Voight questions, peering over Mouse's shoulder to look at the screen.

"No," he answers, leaning back in his seat to patiently wait for the results, "We had Erin get Burgess to send us a picture of him so we can compare it to the findings. There are at least thirty Gregory Bishop's in Illinois that we know of so far."

"He tried to take Kim's tattoo," Ruzek reminded, still trying to come to terms with the events of today. He's walking back and forth in front of Mouse's desk, waiting for the discussion to further; he desperately needs to see Kim again, make sure she's doing okay.

"How did the killer know she had a tattoo?" Halstead poses the question, "We know Gregory knows her from the dating profile, but we shouldn't solely focus on that. His attack on Burgess narrows it down. We know she obviously came into contact with him at some point."

"We can look back into law enforcement, crime scene investigators and medical examiners. Burgess spends her time around them most days," Atwater added.

"Yeah, start there…" Voight agreed, sending his detectives back to their desks, "This is personal. He has unfinished business and we need to catch him before he decides to finish the job."

As each detective breaks away to start searching and combing through possible suspects, Erin and Kim arrive. The soles of Erin's feet ache as she slowly and exhaustively climbs the stairs. She feels like she's been on her feet all day and in the last ten minutes, the baby has started assaulting the inside of her stomach with her feet. She's kicking again –obviously irritated and frustrated by her mother's constant movement. As Erin approaches the top stair, she sets a comforting hand over the area the baby repeatedly kicks against.

"Are you okay?" Erin hears Ruzek's worried voice fill the bullpen as he rushes to Kim's side. She's in a different shirt. Lindsay kept a spare shirt in her locker, where they stopped by briefly before coming up the stairs.

"I'm fine Adam," Burgess replies, wanting desperately to get back to work. She wanted to consume herself with this case to keep her mind off of her attack. Kim needed him caught. She needs for her attacker to be put away.

"If you need someone to talk to," Dr. Charles spoke up, withdrawing his card from his pocket and extending it towards her, "you can give me a call."

"Thanks," she pockets his business card.

Tyler rises from behind Erin's desk to allow her to sit down. She flops into her desk chair and sinks into the cushion. It's comfortable –a hundred times more comfortable than the waiting room chairs. Lindsay feels another kick –less painful than the last- and she purposely overlooks it to focus in on the team, "Did we get anywhere with the man you all arrested?"

"We released him," Voight informed.

Burgess meets her sergeant's eyes, "Why? How come?"

"Apparently, the psychiatrist knows more about this than we do," Tyler said through gritted teeth. He's obviously still not over the last man being released.

"If Dr. Charles says it wasn't him then it wasn't him," Erin's words ring true to the entire unit, but they don't settle for Detective West. He's the only one not willing to drop it.

"We had him Erin."

"Apparently we didn't," she remarks.

Tyler immediately turns to face her, "You of all people should understand. Erin, you have perfect eyes, don't be blind to this. He was our guy."

"No he wasn't."

"Yes he was," his fist slams against her desk, urging Jay to walk over. Halstead approaches his wife, and casually takes a protective seat against the edge of her desk.

"Walk it off Detective West," Voight ordered, pointing off towards the hallway. Hank could tell that Tyler is passionate about this case, but now is not the time to point fingers and arrest someone based off of circumstantial evidence. They want this person caught, but they need to make sure it's the right person they're arresting. Tyler walks to the breakroom.

Suddenly a ping rings out on Mouse's computer causing for the tech guy to sit up straight and wheel himself closer to the screen. The background check is completed and after scanning the photo sent to them by Burgess and running a cross comparison, they narrowed down the search results of Gregory Bishop from 45 people in Illinois to one, matching his DMV photo. Mouse alerts his team, "I found Kim's um…" Mouse didn't know what to call him.

"He's not anything to me," Burgess corrects.

"Sorry, I found Gregory Bishop; he lives in Chicago, Illinois, both parents deceased and he currently works as a mechanic."

Dr. Charles speaks up; he's getting ready to leave soon, he has a shift to get back to at Chicago Med, "What about his criminal record? I'm pretty sure you're looking for someone who has gotten into trouble in their youth."

"Well, looks like Mr. Bishop has a nice lengthy criminal record…" Mouse strolls through the charges listed in Gregory's youth.

"Dating sites need to start running criminal background checks," Erin overheard Kim mutter.

Mouse continues, "We have one count of drug possession, um, there's two counts of assault, vandalism and this is all him as an adult. As a minor, there's joyriding on here, driving under the influence, underage drinking, and trespassing."

"We should bring him in," Olinsky asserts, grabbing his jacket draped around the back of his chair, "If he did attack Burgess, he'll be on the move; he'll be desperate and doing damage control. We need to go now."

Ruzek rises from his seat, "I'll come. I want to help you drag his ass in."

"You're too close," Voight asserted, approaching a fuming Ruzek, "Olinsky, Atwater and Dawson will go and bring him in for questioning."

"Can I go?"

They all turn to face Detective West as he walks out of the breakroom –seemingly calm. He truly didn't have to ask permission from Voight, but asking was a way to stay on the sergeant's good side. Voight looks over at Al and his closest friend nods, "You can go, but you are to follow Olinsky's orders. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Tyler replies, speeding up to catch up with the departing detectives.

"I guess I should also be getting out of here," Dr. Charles says, tipping his hat and bidding the detectives a farewell, "Always nice working with you."

"Thank you again Dr. Charles," Voight concludes to the departing psychiatrist's figure.

Now the waiting game began… They didn't know where this would lead them, but it was progress, it was a step, hopefully in the right direction. Voight headed towards his office, he needed to fill those above him in on the day's events. He quietly closed his office door, leaving Halstead, Burgess, Ruzek, Lindsay and Mouse in the bullpen. For the first time in months, Mouse has nothing to do. He takes a much needed break and goes into the breakroom to make himself a cup of coffee. Halstead is still sitting against Erin's desk and Kim rolls her own desk chair over to join the two. Erin sees her approach and it reminds her, "Oh, babe, I invited Burgess to stay with us until the perpetrator is caught."

"Okay, I'm fine with that," Jay nods as Kim sends him a smile of thanks, "She can help me paint the nursery during her stay."

"You're going to have your house guest work?" Burgess exclaims in shock –she's obviously joking, earning a chuckle from Erin.

"Hey, I already volunteered to help."

Jay shakes his head at his wife's words, "Erin knows she can't do it because of the paint fumes."

"What colors did you two choose?"

Erin sits up, obviously intrigued and excited to talk about this. She opens her desk drawer and pulls out a folder, "We compromised," she opens the folder to point out a shade of white, "ivory white for the ceiling, the door and the wall with the bay window," she flips the page and points to a specific shade of purple, "and for the other three walls, this light periwinkle purple shade; it's pretty. And to be honest," Erin points towards the varying shades of green, "I was leaning towards something in the green family, but Jay's like, he wants girly colors and I'm like hey that's such a gender stereotype."

Both Kim and Jay laugh at Erin's quick talking as the excitement is obvious in her facial expression, her mannerisms and her voice. She's almost seven months pregnant. She's closer to her due date and it's definitely fast approaching. Burgess spots the shared look between Erin and Jay; it's a look that she doesn't understand, but they do. They get each other. And she wants that for herself. After getting caught staring by Ruzek, she clears her throat, "What did you two compromise on?" She wants to avoid any questioning from him.

Erin turns back to face her, "I pick the colors for the walls and he picks the crib."

"You shouldn't have done that."

"Actually," Erin raised her finger to defend the compromise, "We went to look at cribs and so far the three he really likes are pretty decent; he's a function over form guy and he just wants it to be as safe as possible. I can't argue with that. And the three cribs he's deciding between have both function and form," Erin reaches into her desk and withdraws a magazine, "I've been looking through this and getting nursery ideas. When Jay and I pick a name, I think I'm going to buy the letters in white to spell it out on the wall."

"Behind her crib?" Adam asks, inserting himself into the conversation.

"The crib won't be against the wall. It'll be in the center of the room," Erin explains, waving for Adam to come closer to take a look at the layout, "Jay is paranoid. He doesn't want any photos we'll hang to fall on her or for the curtains we're putting up to cover the bay window to somehow blow and accidentally smother her."

Ruzek nudges his best friend's shoulder, "Protective daddy mode is already coming out I see."

"And here I thought I had about sixteen more years," Erin continued the joke. Her chuckles lighten the mood and she internally jumps the moment she feels the baby kick. Her little foot is consistently hitting against the inside of Erin's stomach as if she can hear and understand the conversation the adults are having. It's like she's trying to add in her input and it makes Erin laugh. She laughs and covers the side of her stomach to continue to feel her baby's foot repeatedly press against it.

"Is she kicking?"

Erin's grin is stretched a mile wide; she looks at Burgess and nods to answer her best friend's question, "She is. I think it's her way of responding."

"I want to feel again," Kim replies excitedly, extending her hand to allow Lindsay to place it onto the area –Burgess patiently waited and then she felt it, "That is amazing. Erin there is a baby in there. You're growing a baby."

"She isn't a plant Kimberly," Jay laughed at her phrasing.

Burgess tears up, "It's just…I'm so happy for you guys."

"Are we feeling the baby kick?" Mouse asked, walking out of the breakroom to see Kim and Erin nod to answer his question, "Well, don't forget me. I want to feel too." His hand brushes Kim's hand out of the way so his can cover the spot, and he suddenly feels it, "Whoa… that's awesome," he feels another two kicks –back to back- and his eyes widen in amazement, "Ruzek, come feel. It'll help you feel better."

Erin stares at her team in disbelief, "Guys, I am not a petting zoo." Ruzek maneuvers himself closer and Lindsay happily obliges to let him feel; she doesn't want him to feel left out. She takes his hand and positions it in a different spot, the baby must have shifted because she's now kicking against a different area, "…she's being weird right now. She stopped kicking."

"Maybe she doesn't like me?" Ruzek wondered, patiently holding his hand against the area Erin left it, "Maybe she doesn't like her Uncle Adam? Kids don't seem to like me much. Maybe-" he cuts himself off when he feels it. It wasn't the first time he felt baby Halstead kick, but this was the first time he felt how fast and hard the kicks were coming in. Kick after kick after kick, this little girl was too excited.

"Does dad want to feel?" Erin questions after Ruzek pulls his hand away in astonishment. He's standing, eyes wide and mouth agape. That's a miracle.

Jay's hand is placed where Adam's once was located, "This just never gets old," he meets his wife's eyes as the kicking starts to slow.

"She's probably falling asleep." And even though the kicking stops, he doesn't pull his hand away. He leaves it. And Erin doesn't mind. Each of their coworkers remained seated or standing by them, still completely smitten by a little girl who wasn't even born yet. However, this blissful moment is soon interrupted by Dawson and Atwater dragging the man they recognized to be Gregory Bishop up the stairs.

The suspect is yanking himself and shouting profane words as the detectives pull him up the remainder of the stairs. Voight hears –he hears and comes out of his office. The man is in handcuffs, but he's struggling against Atwater and Dawson's tight hold. West and Olinsky are following closely behind them.

"This isn't fair!" The man exclaims, kicking his legs wildly, "I'm innocent! I didn't do what they're saying I did! I swear!"

"Take him to interrogation," Voight ordered, watching as Dawson and Atwater walk –practically drag- the suspect in the direction of the interrogation room.

Olinsky approaches him, "This was found at his house," He sets two clear evidence bags down on Erin's desk since most of the unit is surrounding it. Voight is the one to pick it up; he sighs after spotting a beaded necklace in one bag and a bloodied scalpel in another, "It was in plain sight. I don't think the guy had a chance to hide it. We can tell he wasn't expecting us."

Hank sets the bags back down, "Arrest him, charge him, and then we'll question him," he turns to face Ruzek, "Get the evidence to forensics. We need to see if his prints are on the blade and necklace and we also need to make sure the blood actually came from Burgess."

Ruzek sweeps up the two evidence bags and quickly departs from the unit. He wants this case closed just as bad as everyone else, especially after this asshole attacked Burgess. Ruzek would be happy to personally hand deliver the evidence to forensics. As Voight walks off towards interrogation with Olinsky, Mouse and Halstead go back to their desks, leaving Burgess and Lindsay. The latter of the two kicking off her shoes and leaning back to find Kim looking at her, "You're staring. Say something or stop staring."

Kim smiles, "I guess we won't be having a sleepover after all."

"Halstead will still need your help."

Kim's smile turns into a loud laugh, "You just want to have a slumber party with me!"

"Is it that obvious?" Erin responds, a dimpled grin tugging at her lips.

Burgess shrugs and starts to back away in the direction of her desk, "We caught him."

"Are you sure about that?"

"What?" Kim stops walking and turns around, "You don't think we did? You don't think he's our serial killer? We found evidence linking him to my attack. Soon enough we'll get evidence linking him to killing Trent and all of those other women."

"It's just…" Erin tries to gather her thoughts and form it into coherent words; she runs her hand through her hair, "he's been doing this for a year, if not more, he's not sloppy. He's evaded police all of this time. He takes risks, but he's smart about it. He wouldn't have attacked you in broad daylight to not finish the job and not to mention, he left evidence in plain sight."

"He wasn't expecting us to find him."

"He wouldn't have messaged you inquiring about your tattoo," Erin replies, crossing her arms over her chest, "You don't think this came a little too easy."

Burgess slowly walks back over, "I think because this is what we've all been obsessed with over the past seven months, it's hard to let go and start something else."

"You're probably right," Erin leaned back in her desk chair, "I'm just overthinking it."

"He slipped up. They always make mistakes. The case is closed Erin. We all did good."