A few months later, Street gets an unexpected call. He recognizes the area code in the number, calling him as Los Angeles. The number is not in his phone, and yet something makes him pick up.
He was just filing some paperwork after his latest case had been a bust. They found the traffickers but not the girls. And none of the men were talking.
"Jim Street speaking," he answers and is met with silence. After a beat, he hears the phone probably being placed on a table and put on speakerphone.
"Street? Is that really you?" he'd recognize Hondo's voice in a heartbeat, and he could also make out surprised murmuring in the background. "Where are you?" yep, Luca sounds just a tad angry.
Street glances at his caller ID one more time. He'd made sure to copy all the old numbers when he switched out his phone.
"Yeah, you found me, but where are you calling me from? Or better, why?" he walks to his desk.
He can hear Hondo take a deep breath and probably check with the others on what to say. "I am at work. I am still a cop. Just in New York now," Street explains calmly.
"Listen, kid, I just need an answer to one question," Hondo gets serious. "Do you have any idea why this number, your number, is the emergency contact on our missing UC's phone?"
Street had been sitting comfortably in his chair, but his spine straightened at the words missing UC.
"No idea. What was your UC working on?" he has a bad feeling immediately and starts opening the files for his case. There were four girls in recent months who flew back out to LA. But if one of those had been a cop… he shakes his head.
"Human trafficking," Hondo confirms. "Damnit," Street curses.
"I gave the four girls we sent back to LA my card if they remembered anything," he stammers out and pulls up their contact information. "I can send over what I have on them. Maybe one of them gave your UC my number?"
"Possibly," Hondo nods. "I am going to send Tan and Deac out to New York. Do you have any leads on how the girls arrive in the city?"
"No, not really. All they remember is being in a limousine, and then they wake up in various seedy motels in the area," he cringes. Every one of those cases made him sick, and he wants nothing more than to stop the whole operation.
About seven agonizing hours later, with countless emails back and forth, Street is waiting for Tan and Deac at the airport. If he expected at least a somewhat friendly greeting, both his former colleagues looked horrible.
"You look like you haven't slept in days…" he comments worriedly, and both nod. "Bare minimum. You know how it is if one of your team is missing," Tan replies and stops walking at Street's shocked gasps.
Suddenly, everything that had bothered him the last few hours made sense. The voice missing from the background chatter, the way Hondo had refrained from giving any info on the UC, and most importantly, that he hadn't sent Chris to New York. The only woman on the team.
Street swallows and lifts his eyes to his friends. "Chris is missing?"
Tan and Deac share a look and a nod before Deac speaks up. "Street, have you heard from her?"
"No, not since…" he trails off and then all but whispers, "the funeral."
After a beat or two, he shakes his head and tries to refocus. "Let me drop you off at your hotel, and then we can regroup in the morning," he mumbles and already knows he will not rest until he finds her. If Chris is anywhere near New York, he will find her, and if it is the last thing he does.
Street grips the steering wheel and starts the engine. "How long has she been missing?" he asks methodically and tries to recall all the other victim statements.
"She missed two check-ins with Hondo and Hicks," Tan offers, "So at most three days before we were at the apartment,"
Street swallows. Three days. That means if she was with the group he had been investigating, she was already in the city. He dials his superior to get permission to put surveillance on all known places the group has used so far to stash their girls. Unfortunately, they can't do anything without concrete evidence that a new shipment has arrived. Their radio chatter didn't give them enough.
Street hits the steering wheel, frustrated after pulling into a hotel parking lot. "Sorry, guys. We can't offer anything more fancy. I'll come pick you up in the morning,"
"You should catch some sleep, too," Deac pats his shoulder before getting out of the car.
"I'll sleep when I know Chris is safe," Street grits out.
Just seconds after the door has fallen shut behind Deac, his phone starts ringing. Why would dispatch call him now?
"Jim Street, speaking," he answers. "Sir, we have a woman calling the switchboard, asking for you by name. She knows details of your current case…" a nervous-sounding officer explains, and Street just honks the horn, stopping Tan and Deac in their tracks and running back to the car. "Put her through and trace the call," he orders, then holds his breath.
"Street?" her voice is raspy and weak, but it is clearly Chris. "Thank God, Chris. Where are you?"
"I don't know. I just can see the Manhattan skyline, and I dialed 911. I need help," she sounds a bit as if she is in and out of it. Her heavy breathing worries Street.
The line cuts suddenly, and Street is about to panic when his navigation suddenly kicks in. Dispatch sent through the traced location. Staten Island.
He keys the lights and pulls the car into a sharp U-turn. "Could you warn us next time?" Tan breathes out, shocked.
"Sorry, this is the quickest way. If Chris was…" he doesn't dare say the words, but the grim expression on his friends' faces tells him they know that the others were all drugged and some of them even assaulted.
He is racing like a maniac to get to the seediest motel he knows on Staten Island. And over the course of this investigation, he found a few of those.
The desk clerk immediately recognizes a photo of Chris and points them in the right direction. At the base of the stairs, Street's steps falter.
"You should go ahead without me," he motions to Tan and Deac, and both frown at him. "She called you for help," Deac replies with knitted brows.
"Just because she didn't know you guys are here," he replies before Tan rebuts him with, "This is your case. You have to talk to her eventually,"
"But not right now. She will feel more comfortable with you guys. And I probably should recuse myself anyway…," Street trails off when a door upstairs opens a fraction. They can't see what's happening, but Street motions for the other two to get behind him and draws his weapon.
Seconds later, his phone starts vibrating. He holds up his hand. "Jim Street?" he whispers in the device. "Sir, the woman is on the phone again,"
"Put her through,"
He puts his gun away. Chris probably saw the car pulling in with lights and was wondering where he was. "Chris?" he speaks softly when he hears the connection established. "We're here. I am sending Tan and Deac up, okay?"
"Yeah, okay. Can they bring me a hoodie or something?" Chris sounds even weaker than before. "They will bring you a jacket or something," he replies. "And I'll call an ambulance." He adds before hanging up.
Tan already pulled a sweater jacket out of his bag and slowly climbed the stairs. Street watches from below how Chris opens the door after Tan knocks and throws herself at his friend. He barely catches a glimpse of her attire, but from what he remembers of the others they found, it's very little.