It's way more client files than any of them anticipated, but with them all agreeing to stay as late as possible to sort through the files, separating them into categories of current vs. past clients, along with subcategories of clients that raised red flags to the detectives and those that did not, -their green flag pile as they'll call it. Jay slept for nine hours the night before, the most sleep he's gotten since Milah's death and he truly believed Emma is the cause of it. With her smiling so much now, and rolling over, a bit wobbly and uncoordinated, but rolling over nonetheless put him in such a good mood, gave a bright light to his eye and relaxed his mind enough to get good quality sleep. He needed that, and apparently got it right on time with the recent development.
Now he's refreshed, muscles soothed from the hot shower he took this morning, energy up from the coffee he purchased from the cafe down the street and vision clear since he's not consistently rubbing sleep out of his eye. He cracks open the first file of the next day, reading the demographic information and once he gets to the client's age, he tosses the folder in the green pile. He highly doubts a nine year old is capable of doing something like that. He moves to the second file, feeling a renewed sense of determination now that his stack has been lowered by one. He's focused, yet very aware of his surroundings. And in his peripheral vision, he sees the team doing the same, sorting through files and ruling clients out as suspects typically if they're under a certain age or over. Everyone else stays in the suspect pool until they have more verifiable information to use to rule them out. Jay looks back down at the opened file in front of him, rolling his eyes once he closes it and tosses it off to the side. Just like he doesn't believe a nine year old has the physical ability to bash Milah's face in like that, he feels the same about the eighty-two year old grandfather of four and great grandfather of three.
"We have a parolee here," Atwater waves an opened file in the air, "only in therapy because it's court ordered. From the court order, he's seeing her for anger management. Got out of prison three months ago, ended up in a bar fight and was going to be sent back to serve out the remainder of his initial sentence but his lawyer talked the judge into agreeing to therapy."
"It's worth following up on," Voight exits his office, "Atwater, take Olinsky with you, follow the lead, see if he has an alibi, give you all's files to the rest of the team. They'll look over it."
Moves are being made, and it's finally going in a good direction. They needed a win, Jay needed an update to give to Milah's kid by the time he called the number on Jay's business card. He was going to finish his stack, then get through Atwater's hopefully by lunch. The silence in the bullpen is filled with pages turning, the sound of work being done. The only break he takes are the seconds it takes him to respond to Erin's text.
You forgot your lunch. You must have been in a hurry.
Jay smiles. Erin's the only person that could pull him away from the case, since we got the warrant, we're pretty busy. Don't eat my leftovers, I'll eat them when I get home. I expect them to be in the fridge!
Can't make any promises!
Erin!
She laughs at his plea, deciding to torture him for a little while longer, only for the seconds to turn to minutes with all that transpired from Milo ripping the octopus to shreds to her finding the camera. The last thing on her mind is his leftovers because right now, her mind is blank. All color is drained from her face, she looks pale, staring off as if she's seen a ghost. Erin doesn't know what to think as she stares down at the mangled octopus head, frozen in place, and too stunned to speak, glaring at its disfiguration as she tries to recall how long this has been in her home, how long this lens had front row seats to her life. Her eyes fall to the remainder of the octopus body, some parts torn to shreds, other parts untouched but with the way Milo is staring at them, she knows it isn't for long. She feels sick, nausea bubbling up to the surface leading her to run to the bathroom. Her body crumpled over the toilet seat and the little breakfast she ate this morning was discarded. An immediate relief overwhelms her now that her stomach was empty yet the dreaded pit wrapping itself around her stomach has her wishing she had more to discard.
A true violation of privacy. She feels exposed, vulnerable in a way that she didn't consent to because she's been in the nude in front of that octopus, she's had private conversations in front of that octopus, she has cried, she has made out, she had sex, she opened up, she shared secrets, she changed her damn baby in front of that fucking octopus. She doesn't know who all is on the other side of that camera but you bet your ass she's going to find out. Her foot taps, she needs her mom to get here so she can leave. She'll have to call out of work, she doesn't care if she doesn't get paid, she's been blowing through her PTO faster than planned but this is important, this takes precedence. Once she's sure she's done feeling sick, she flushes. She notices Milo behind her, a tentacle clenched in his teeth as he peers up at her with such innocent eyes, almost as if he's apologetic for ripping into Emma's toy. Erin musters up a grin, it's hard but she manages and she pats his head, "You were a good boy, Milo," his tail starts to wag, "Yes, you were a good boy!"
She then moves to the sink, cleaning her teeth and freshening her breath, almost stalling when it comes to problem-solving and addressing the elephant in the room, -or should she say octopus.
It's all before work, Erin really doesn't have the time to think about what she wants to do, but she knows whatever it is, it has to do with Abby. She's the one that gifted the octopus, but without direct proof of whatever that camera is recording is all feeding back to Abby, Erin knows it wouldn't go far in any court system. All Abby will say is it was sold to her like that, they'll question the store and seller and they'd deny it and it'll all be he say she say and that produces no results. So, she mindlessly cleans up the stuffed animal, she packs the webcam in her lunchbox so she doesn't forget it and when her mom arrives to watch Emma, she kisses both of them goodbye before heading off to work, or at least, that's where Camille assumes she's going. Erin doesn't act any differently in front of her mom; she doesn't want to give her any reason to panic until she knew for sure what was going on and what they'd potentially be dealing with, especially because Camille needed to be completely present for Emma, and with all her emotions worn on her sleeve, Emma would be picking up on them and that'd just create an even longer day for grandmother and granddaughter. Erin stays silent, but her moves are rushed.
Camille barely gets a goodbye out before the door is shut behind her daughter. She doesn't read too much into it, thinking it's probably her in a rush to go to work for some good adult conversation, for some fresh air or a change of scenery. She ruffles Milo's fur and pecks his head after cracking a joke about his mom running out like her hair was on fire. The dog simply whines in response and claws at the door Erin recently left through, "She'll be back before you know it."
She turns to scan the living room, a part of her routine being straightening up while Emma sleeps so she can pass the time, but her eyes capture what's not there. The elephant figuratively is not in the room. It's hard not to miss the absence of the octopus considering its color and size and she's grateful it's finally gone. It stayed here longer than a day which was too long in her book but it wasn't her place to discard it. She'd hoped Erin would at least wait until Emma was old enough to say she didn't want it but it seems the young mama made the decision for her. Camille shivers, thinking about how it felt like the eyes followed her around the living room but she was willing to put the shivers and creep-factor to the side to ignore it for Emma. Her eyes drifted from the whining dog to the empty corner of the living room, "Is that why you're sad?" Camille crouches down to the best of her ability considering her knees aren't as durable as they used to be, "you miss the octopus?" She pats the top of his head, ruffling the fur between his ears and when she reads the emotion in his eyes, she reads it wrong and thinks the sadness in his orbs is attributed to the disappearance of the stuffed animal, "I think you enjoyed that thing more than anyone else, bud. I'm sorry, but I am glad your mama finally got rid of it. If you're a good boy today, maybe grandma Cammy will get you your own stuffed animal, maybe not the same size as an adult human like the octopus but we'll figure something out."
Before Camille can give Milo another rub down, the baby is crying, distracting her from the dog and the living room and when she ventures inside Emma's nursery, she spots Erin's phone, "oh your mama is not gonna be happy when she realizes she left this." She scoops her granddaughter into her arms when the phone rings, Jay's contact name coming up and Camille swipes to answer, "Hello, Erin's phone."
"Mrs. Voight?" Jay's voice is hesitant. He's understandably confused. And Camille doesn't bother correcting him; he's been teeter-tottering between her married name and her first, trying to figure out which one he's most comfortable with and she gives him time.
"Yeah, it's me. Erin left her phone at home," she says by way of explanation, "she actually just left like five minutes ago. Raced out the door like her hair was on fire. I didn't get a chance to look at her feet but I'm hoping she remembered her shoes. She was in a big hurry."
Frown lines became embedded in his forehead. He knew it wasn't like Erin to leave her phone, it's always been glued to her hip, especially since having Emma, especially when Emma is not in her company. Pillowtalk between them would sometimes involve vulnerable layers of fears surrounding parenting, and Erin's fear of trusting others with their daughter because no one would look out for her like her parents. Erin kept her phone on her, and if she forgot it, she would have remembered it before she left the building; she would have circled back and grabbed it. Jay sets a timer on his watch, planning to give her time to commute to work then call her desk phone, "if she comes back to get it, can you ask her to call me?"
"I sure will."
"How's Emma doing? I hope she's behaving."
"Always," Camille grins, pressing a hard kiss to her granddaughter's chubby cheek, "but she's always good for grandma. We have that special type of bond."
"Give her a hug and kiss from me please, and Erin usually does this but when you send her pictures, she'll forward them to me from her phone. Can you-"
"I can send you pictures of the baby."
He releases a held breath, "Thanks."
Jay smiles then passes the phone to his boss when Voight extends his hand. No question about it, the expectation was clear on his face. Voight takes the phone, puts it to his ear and then walks off. Jay turns back to his shortened pile, -the red flag set- that potentially contains the identity of Milah's killer. Kevin and Al returned a half an hour ago with no luck or lead putting them closer. The parolee was a deadend; he was at home with his girlfriend and two kids, his toddler wouldn't go down for bed so he laid and inevitably fell asleep in the toddler bed with him. That alibi is pretty airtight considering the alarm in their home was set an hour before Milah was killed and wasn't deactivated until the next morning. He's innocent of this crime.
The flame of hope that was lit upon receiving the files had slowly started to diminish with every minute that passed without any solid link between Milah and her killer. He wants to complain, and he would if it'd get them anywhere. Yet, all he can do is grab his notepad and start listing out names of all the clients that made it into the red pile. The chicken scratch he calls handwriting on the paper is legible enough for him to read it, but this paper will only be something useful for him to use, in other words, his own cheatsheet.
"I'm still sorting," Ruzek makes the unnecessary announcement though Jay gives him his full attention while everyone else remain focused on their files, "but I'm having trouble determining which category to put this one in," now that earns the attention of the detectives, including Voight who reappeared to hand over Jay's phone, "woman, early 30s," he starts.
"Okay…what's hard about her?" Voight rushes.
"She didn't pay with insurance."
Al shrugs, not seeing the big deal, "a lot of people don't, the self-pay option exists for a reason."
"Yeah but her file is pretty thin."
Antonio rises from his seat to take a look, "when'd she start therapy? If it's recent, that maybe can explain it."
"She started last month."
Voight crosses his arms over his chest, "Regardless of how thick or thin her file is, would a new client have any reason to kill her therapist?"
"I looked at her registration form. The address she put down is to an abandoned building."
Voight rolls his eyes, "You should have led with that." That wasn't the smoking gun but hell it was close enough to a flash bang that'll lead them in the direction to find it.
Each of them brushed their own assortment of files to the side, rose to their feet and moved closer. This lead seemed to be the most promising one. It's the biggest red flag they've come across since starting the deep dive into her clientele.
"What's her name? Dawson, I want you to take it down and run an extensive background check, I want to know everything about her before the day is over," Voight ordered, face remaining the same from before they got a lead to now, obscuring any hint of emotion, "no order has been given for you all to stop with your respective files. This could just be another dead end like the last one. Keep looking just in case it leads us nowhere. Everyone doesn't need to be hovering around one person, reading over the same lines, it's a waste of valuable time. We're already weeks behind, we need a break in this case if we want to keep the case. Dawson and Ruzek will look further into this client just like we've done with previous ones and if it deserves a response from the team then we'll redirect our energy, but for right now, get back to your stations, read your files and see if there is any other leads that need to be followed." Voight dismisses them without saying another word. His presence enough commands the team.
Jay knows his sergeant is right and he puts up no argument. Ruzek even puts that one file off to the side in its own individual pile before resuming and looking through more. He already made mention of what was suspicious and until Dawson came back with the background check, the current file served him no further purpose at the moment. Halstead could feel they're getting close, like it's on the tips of their fingers, it's just out of reach and they're missing something pretty important, but just as he rules out another client, he hears the rushed, stomping of feet as they climb the stairs, struggling to take two at a time in order to get to the top faster.
Knowing that no one can come up to their bullpen without the appropriate credentials or without a sergeant's pass, kept the team relaxed. All of whom are looking up, curious to the frantic peddling of feet up the stairs, only for those small feet to be revealed to be connected to Erin. She is obviously out of breath, and Jay wonders when exactly did she start running. Was it once she got out of the car? Entered the building? Made it pass the gate? But, regardless, her stamina is built up enough for him to know the short distance wouldn't have her panting like that. Something's wrong. Something is very wrong. A ziploc bag clenched in her hand and her hands covering her knees as she tried but failed to catch her breath. Jay wheels his chair closer, always the gentlemen and if her heart wasn't threatening to beat itself out of her chest, she maybe would have thanked him for it. Erin holds up the bag and through a rushed breath says, "octopus."
Blank expressions cover everyone's faces, even Jay's when he's the one that typically can read and understand her even when she's not speaking. The chair he wheeled over remains empty. Her heart continues to thump, so many beats in just under a minute and she tries again, "camera."
Jay catches it this time, "it's a camera," he takes the bag from her when she nods. Just by looking at it, he can obviously see it's a camera so his confusion only spreads, "Erin, where'd the camera come from?"
Erin swallows down a breath of air, "Emma's octopus," her words are much clearer, everyone can finally understand though they still remain a tad bit confused because what does a camera have to do with a baby's stuffed animal and why was it in there?
"Detectives get back to work," Voight orders, leaving no room for argument despite the pleading look on Jay's face, he's irked to be sent away but Hank doesn't care, "Erin my office," he directs next. She takes the bag back. He gives her a head start before turning back to his team, "we still have a murder to solve, the investigation doesn't stop."
Jay steps forward despite the raging fire behind Voight's glare, "…but sir, she's my-"
"…and I'll keep you posted. If it's something you need to hear, you will hear it but she doesn't need all of Intelligence to listen to her catch her breath and talk about a baby's toy, not when that same team can be doing something more productive. Continue reading those files that we worked damn near night and day to get a warrant to get, knock on my door if someone finds something worth mentioning." No further words are said as Voight turns on his heel, follows Erin into his office and exits the bullpen, shutting his door and then the blinds to give them some privacy all the while knowing that Detective Halstead is more than likely currently mentally cursing him out. Jay is stewing in worry, his body simmering in heat sourced by anger, he wants to get up, rip the hinges off his boss's fucking door, demand to be present because the look in her eye, the look on her face concerns him, it has everything to do with him. He wants to solve Milah's case more than anyone, but fuck that, Erin means more to him than any case.
"Relook over this case file for me," Ruzek hands him the old one that raised the most flags, "that way you're caught up when Dawson finishes the background check." Jay knows it's Adam's way of trying to distract him, of taking his mind off of whatever the hell is happening in that office. He grabs his buddy's shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance, "You'll drive yourself crazy thinking about what's happening behind those doors. You and I both know that Voight can't hide a hint of emotion when it comes to family and if Erin is in trouble, he's biased enough to prioritize that."
Halstead knows he's right, whether he hates it or not, he'll drive himself crazy trying to focus and guess on what's happening behind that door. He takes Adam up on the offer to reread over that casefile, and leaves his girl in the trusted hands of his boss, hoping behind every miniscule amount of hope that her reaction to whatever's going on is out of dramatics and not necessity. He takes the file, chances one last look at the closed blinds in the hopes that maybe Voight or Erin will appear and wave him inside, but when it doesn't happen, he pops the file open. The team continues to silently work through their files, no one uttering a word, partially because they hope Voight's voice would carry and they'd be able to know what's happening, but none of them are that lucky. Instead, Hank Voight, sergeant of the Intelligence Unit is using his inside voice when he takes a hold of the ziploc bag then takes a seat behind his desk, "What's going on?"
He eyes the camera then eyes his daughter, the question evident on his face, matching his worded question and she's finally caught her breath enough to fill in the blanks, "I found that in the eye of the octopus, the same octopus that Abby gave us."
"Do you think she's been watching you?"
"Must have," Erin desperately exclaims, "what other reason would that be doing in there?"
"...and you're sure she put it in? It didn't come like this when she bought it. I'm only asking because I know some stuffed animals have nanny cams built in, I just want to make sure before we bring hell down on her that it's warranted."
"For all I know, it could have came like that, that's probably why it was in there in the first place, maybe that was the purpose behind it but she didn't tell us, we do not have access to the feed, or the link or the app or whatever the hell we would be watching it on. For all we know, she's been using it to watch us. Milo tore the animal to shreds and I think it's because he knew something was up with that damn thing. He'd been trying to reveal it to me for the longest, but I kept stopping him. He's never been like that with anything else but he's had it out for that octopus since it planted its ass in the corner of my living room. You know I'm pretty chill, I would not be reacting like this if I thought there could be some other reasonable explanation."
"It doesn't look good I'll tell you that."
"We have to do something."
"And we are… I'm going to start by having officers bring Abby in for questioning."
"She needs to be arrested, not questioned."
"...on what grounds?"
"I don't know! I'm not a lawyer! I just know that since I met her, literally since I met her back around when I was sixish months pregnant she's been doing sneaky shit so this is right on par with her. Dad, she doesn't want me with Jay. You already know she did that whole underhanded shit that got him fired," she raises her hand to silence him before he can dispute her perspective into Abby's role in Jay's firing, "You don't even know the half of what she's been putting us through. Dad, she's even left a note on my car, threatening me to stay away from Jay. I'm pretty sure she slashed my tire. That woman is not right in the mind. She tatted Emma's name on her. Dad, she even got a fucking tattoo of Emma's face! What sane person does that?!"
That takes him aback. It truly stumps him because no amount of digging into the crevices of his mind could he conjure up a reason for that. He's been left in the dark for so much of this, it's no wonder why he's chill about it while Erin is freaking out. The camera was the icing on the cake, and based on the desperation in her eyes, he believed her. He didn't need more proof than that.
"Okay, this is what we're going to do," she inches forward to listen closely, "I want you to go to the courthouse, file for an emergency no contract order, and in the meantime, I'm going to bring Abby in for questioning, I'll have a conversation with her, warn her to stay away, that's going to make her angry and want to confront you, and once she steps foot on your property, we arrest her on the spot. That's going to be our grounds for arrest. I'll give the DA a call to see if there's a charge we could put on her to buy us some time to figure things out."
Erin mutely nods, she wrings her hands together nervously because her guard had been down. It's all coming at her, at them so fast. She waits for her dad to give the DA a ring, leaving a message with his receptionist for an immediate callback the second he's in the office. Her nerves are shot. She's immobilized in fear and frustration right now. Fear at what this all means and frustration at herself for lowering her guard. The longer they went without hearing about Abby, the more she trusted that Abby's text to Jay was true, and now it left them vulnerable. She should have known it was too good to be true. When Jay cut ties with her, they should have cut them completely, starting with throwing that octopus out, and any other reminder of that girl. Damn the nice side to her. But, if they had thrown it out then they wouldn't have ever known about it.
"Do you have work today?" His question interrupts her sulking.
"I did but I called out."
"Where's Emma?"
"She's with mom," Erin runs her hand through her hair, "do you think we should call her? Let her know what's up so she can be on the lookout."
"...and have her paranoid the whole day?"
"Dad-"
"Did you tell your mom before you left this morning?" He asks, and the shake of her head answers his question, "and there's a reason for that. Let's wait until we have solid reason to worry before we worry her and everyone else. Cyber stalking is a huge accusation."
"But dad it's-"
"Sir," his office door swings open, the wide eyes of Ruzek waving a file in the air, "we found something that you need to see." Voight looked between his detective and his daughter, holding his hand towards Erin to hint for her to stay here. He'll be right back. He rose to his feet and walked out to only have a file shoved into his hands, "What am I looking at?"
"That client does not exist, no DMV records whatsoever, and this is the same client that has a bogus address listed and is self-pay so no insurance to vet her real name."
Voight takes a look at the demographic information himself, face frowning as he takes in the file, "If she's self-pay, do we know if she pays in cash or card?"
"Jay and Antonio went down to the practice to talk to Victoria. They're bringing a sketch artist, hoping that Victoria at least remembers how Alice looks. We're hoping she paid with a card because then her name or at least someone she's affiliated with will be on it."
The sergeant's eyes shift over to Al, his second-in-command, "What made you send Jay?"
"It was either that or run the risk of him barging in your office demanding to know what's going on," Al simply puts, as the marker in his hand glides across the whiteboard as he updates the info, "He needed a distraction that will actually get him out of the office."
Voight accepts the answer. He shuts the file and hands it back over, "Good job, keep me posted," he scans the bullpen before his eyes land on Mouse, "follow me, I need you to look into something off the books." He says nothing more, nothing less, leaving everyone in stupefied shock as he turns on his heel and goes back to his office. They hear the door shut and the lock latch in place to ensure no one else comes barging in like Ruzek did moments ago.
Adam looks around the room, trying to read the look on everyone else's face but they all try to appear preoccupied. He takes a seat, deciding to pass the time reviewing the last bit of files left, though no part of him believes they'll find anything. He's been in this career long enough to know that the client they're following up on is the smoking gun. They find who she is and this case unravels because this all can't be a coincidence. He just wishes private practices run background checks on their clients though he figures the reason they don't is how it can be viewed as an invasion of privacy and they don't tend to turn anyone away just because of a jaded past. Hell, they scanned through enough files today to realize that a nice number of people have been locked up, have served time, are currently facing time, or a collection of the three. He grabs his phone to shoot off a text to Jay, wondering if they found anything yet, and by the time Jay checks his phone, he and Antonio are with Victoria and she's signing into the security feed to show the waiting room surveillance cameras, "I thought you said cameras were out because of the storm," Jay crosses his arms and leans his hip against the receptionist desk.
"Yes, the ones outside, the ones run by the city. The ones in here were purchased by Milah."
Antonio bends over to peer at the screen from over her shoulder, "You know you could have shown us this when we were last here or at least sent us a copy?"
"I couldn't because you didn't have a warrant then and this shows clients' faces."
Jay bends over to look at the screen from over her opposite shoulder, "Does it show the street at all?" He doesn't think they'll be that lucky but it was worth a shot.
"No, the camera is right here," she taps the back of her work-issued desktop, it's obscure, a webcam that apparently runs only when the computer is on, "it has a narrow angle, the most you'll get of clients' faces is when they're checking in with me. I'm going to load up Milah's calendar and see when the last time Alice was scheduled for and then if it was within the month, I'll go to that specific footage. If it was more than a month ago, the automatic save starts to automatically delete in order to preserve space."
"Do clients know they're being filmed?"
"It's in the informed consent."
Ah, a document that Jay briefly skimmed through. Sort of like terms and conditions and he signed on the dotted line without any hesitation. Jay pulls up next to her with a rolling chair, already knowing with how packed Milah's schedule is looking that they'll be here for a minute. Back at the office though, the team is powering through the last few files, just a few shy of single digits, all are focused and appear to be relaxed which only unnerves Erin more, "What's taking Mouse so long?" She watches as his brows are furrowed as he hyper fixated on his computer, looking up the task Voight had assigned him, "I thought he was the best of the best."
"Yeah, but he's not a miracle worker. He needs time."
She releases the closed blinds, turning away, "Yeah but how much time? And when does Jay get back? We really need to tell him."
"You telling him isn't going to do us any good right now. It'll destroy him."
"Since when did you care about his feelings?"
Voight ignores that. "It'll distract him. He's working on an important case, he's lost his therapist, you want to spring this on him now? When we don't have any proof that Abby was spying on you? Let's find the proof then tell him."
"...an hour dad, that's all I can give you, an hour before I go out there and tell him myself."
"Then I guess I should send Mouse a text and nudge him to speed up on evaluating that piece of technology, he should be able to tell if it was installed as a function of the octopus or added in from an outside source, outside of the branded manufacturer." Voight turns his back to her and withdraws his phone. She goes back to the window and peers out of the blinds, to see when Mouse receives the message. She watches as he grabs his own phone when it vibrates, and takes in his facial expression at whatever her dad had sent off. Whatever it was, it put fear in him.
Erin glares, hoping the burden of her gaze rushes him. She doesn't know whether he notices or not, but soon enough her dad's hand comes to her shoulder to guide her away.
"He'll be done any second now," Her dad moves her to the chair and gently pushes her down to take a seat, "Talk to me about the little one. Any new milestones she's reaching?"
"...always, I swear she's not like other babies," Erin reaches into her back pocket but finds it empty. Her brows furrow when she moves her hands to her front pockets, "Have you seen my phone?" She rises to her feet and swivels around to look for her phone.
"I'll call it," he says, and when he does, there is no ring and inevitably no answer.
"Damn it, I must have left it at home. I was in such a rush to leave to get here I forgot it."
"That's because you're driving yourself crazy with worry."
"Can you blame me? That psycho has been getting away with shit for too long!"
Voight is thankful his blinds are closed. He pulls his girl into his arms and rests his chin above her head. Holding her there, arms wrapped around her waist and rocking her side to side like he used to do when she was a little one. It brings back memories and distracts her enough to not hyper fixate on Mouse, or whatever the hell Jay is doing or where he's currently at.
Halstead sits up, posture straightens when they finally FINALLY cross reference the calendar and the scheduled appointments with the video footage. Alice had missed her last appointment which meant they had to go even further back. Jay rolls himself even closer, when Victoria plays the video at least a half an hour before the scheduled appointment, "You already know detective," she says to Jay then turns to Dawson, "we recommend clients show up at least 15 minutes before an appointment so I figured going back a half an hour mark would ensure we didn't miss her."
Antonio sits his hand on the back of Victoria's chair and leans over her shoulder, "Does it have audio?"
"No, sorry, just visual." She turns back to the screen. Victoria glances to the time in the corner of the screen, "okay she should be walking in at any second. Milah's notes reference her as being there and not a no show and she didn't make any note about her being late." And just as she concludes her spill, a line forms with a couple standing before a younger woman in line. They only can assume if audio was heard that Victoria was checking them in but once that's done and they pay their co-pay, they move to take a seat, revealing the woman standing behind them.
Abby.
Jay rises from his seat and his thighs hitting the seat sends the wheels of the chair moving backwards as he voices his thought, "Abby."
"No, this is Alice." Victoria confirms.
"No, that's Abby," Dawson chimes in to verify what they all see.
Victoria frowns and minimizes the camera to a smaller screen so the video continues to play while she glances at the schedule for all therapists, "No therapist here had an appointment for anyone by the name of Abby or Abigail or any variation. Dennis has this time window blocked out because he goes home to have dinner with the wife. Malik facilitates a weekly virtual group therapy session so no clients would be coming in person to even check in. Nina has a couple's session which is the couple that we just saw check in. That Abby person is Alice."
Jay refuses to believe that. Why would Abby lie about her name? Why would she seek therapy from his therapist? Why? Why? Why?
"There must be some mistake. This has to be some weird coincidence."
"Victoria, can you print out a screenshot of that video of Abby with the date and timestamp included?" Dawson takes control, obviously noticing Jay needed a moment to get his bearings together and process all of this, "this is why the background check failed, it was an alias. How did she pay for her sessions?"
"She paid in cash."
"You all accept cash?"
"Yeah," Victoria's face frowns because she doesn't understand his question, "we provide a service, what place doesn't take cash? We even fill out written receipts."
"Can you fax us over copies of all her written receipts for her appointments?"
"Yeah, sure, I'll get started right on that." Victoria rises from her seat. Dawson takes the photo off the printer. Jay's arm is grabbed by his partner, and the two detectives walk out of the practice. Antonio shoots off a quick text letting Al know that the sketch artist isn't needed anymore. Jay is frozen in place, solid as a rock. His face is flushed red. Antonio honestly doesn't even know he's breathing. Not caring whether he wrinkles the paper, he grips his hands around Jay's upper arms, forcing him to meet his eyes, "I know this is a lot to process. I know this is hard to believe but all the evidence is starting to make sense," there's a guard up in Jay's expression, the part of him that honestly naturally wants to regress back to his days of defending her, "you started seeing Milah and then made the choice to break up with Abby, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that a prosecutor could find motive in her blaming Milah for you all's break up and killing her for it."
"That's a far stretch though Dawson. A woman who wouldn't hurt a fly eventually resorted to murder. It's a stretch. And Abby text me not too long ago, agreeing to move on. She hasn't reached out to me since then, that has to mean something, right?"
"...maybe that's what she wanted you to believe?"
"How can you be with someone for so long and not know them?"
"Unfortunately, it happens. It happens a lot. You're with someone, you think you know them, only to find out they've been a stranger to you all along. For some people, there are no lasting consequences of that, but for others, for you, it gives testament to the whole idea of stranger danger. That's something we teach kids but there's a lesson in that for adults too."
"I know you've met her once or I think twice, but do you really think she's capable of something like this? I mean this is a brutal murder we're talking about here."
"I'll say this, if she is a woman as you described who wouldn't hurt a fly and she did end up killing someone meaning it's out of character for her, then keeping you around, a detective who can sniff out when someone's different wouldn't be the smartest option. That means something in her snapped to make her lose her mind like that. It means she's unpredictable. I won't lie, all of this is pointing towards her, and if she really doesn't have a criminal bone in her body, she'll crack under interrogation but I just want you to be prepared for the worst. If she did this, you're going to be able to tell. You know her the best. She's our number one suspect, you were there, you read through the files, no one else makes sense and if they did, they had an alibi. If you need to get off the case, I'm pretty sure Voight would let you go home. Stuff like this sucks, I get it, but we both know there is no plausible explanation for any of this."
"She killed her," Jay whispered, more for himself to process this turn of events, "She fucking killed her, Dawson. Who is this person I dated? I was with her and I never, never, thought she could do something like this! How do I go back into the bullpen and look unaffected when we slap Abby's picture to the suspect board? How do I tell Erin? Shit, I had Abby around her, around my baby! My family! How do I look Erin in the eyes and vow to protect her and keep her safe when I already had her around an alleged murderer? Milah's face, that was personal!" His jaw shakes, tears threaten his eyes as the guilt consumes him. His hands shake, and Dawson says nothing because there is nothing to say. They just stand outside on the sidewalk, the natural light beaming from the sun and the breeze of fresh air is doing enough to calm him down.
It's going to be a long day, Dawson can tell. One that just became even longer when Mouse barges into Voight's office, no knock needed because the information he has is what his boss has been rushing him for in the last hour. He sets his written notes on the desk, waiting for Voight and Erin to crowd around before he starts, "From what I found, it's a nanny cam that was originally built into the stuffed animal. It's meant to be obscured so parents can supervise who watches their babies. No outside operator added it; the company confirmed it came like that."
Voight looks to his daughter, "See?"
However, before Erin could bask in that for too long, Mouse continues, "...but I did find that every camera has its own trace and digital server number and from what I found, this camera was in regular use."
Now it's Erin's turn to look at her dad, "See?"
Voight huffs, "are you able to tell us who it was in use by?"
"I contacted the company. In order to download the app, you have to sign up with the server number so you can be directly linked to your camera. They're looking into it as we speak, I should hear back in an hour or two at the most."
"What if she registered her account under a fake name?"
"I can trace the IP address. That's easy work."
She immediately turns to face her father, "Is that enough proof for you now?!"
Voight doesn't answer. He simply nods. And Erin rushes out of the office just as Halstead and Dawson make it back, "Jay!" She calls out to him in a plea, it's not many people or things that can distract him from solving Milah's murder, especially after the most recent findings, the list is actually pretty short with Erin notably on the top of it. He grabs her upper arms to steady her, gone were the teartracks from earlier, he meets her worried gaze and listens as she fills him in on what has her shaken and panicked. All of which is unclear from her heightened state.
"Wait…wait," he shakes his head, trying to make sure he heard her right. He honestly can't deal with this on top of everything else going on with Milah, "Start from the beginning."
Erin takes a deep breath, shoulders rising up to her ears before slowly lowering to calm her racing heart and slow her words. She turns down the offered chair by Ruzek because her energy is too high and she's too restless to take a seat, "Okay, I'll start from the beginning. Milo had-"
…and as she loops him -and Intelligence-in on the events of the early morning, Camille removes the cleaning gloves from her hands and tosses them out. Her gaze falls to Milo, a piece of cotton caught on top of his head, leading her to chuckle softly as she removes it. It's midday, half of her babysitting time is over and that always becomes a bittersweet moment for her. It's like her time spent with Emma is never enough but at the same time, by the end of the day, she's exhausted and ready to leave the moment Erin comes home. She spots Erin's phone, it's now dead so she takes it upon herself to put it on the charger. The tasks she set aside for the day are done, all but starting on dinner but she'll do that in the next hour or so, in the meantime, she wants to put on her soap operas and maybe take herself a little nap on the couch.
Before allowing herself to do that, Camille goes to peek in on the baby, finding her fast asleep in the crib, hearing the soft coos everytime Emma breathes in and out and after smiling softly at her granddaughter, taking in the innocence of a baby sleeping, the absence of worried painted on her angelic face, she backs out of the room, shutting the door as quietly as possible, before heading off to the living room and stopping only when there is a knock at the door. She laughs to herself, suspecting her daughter must have gotten off of work early because she missed her kid, or her phone and without glancing through the peephole, Camille unlocks the door and only manages to say, "I'm guessing-" when a bat goes across her head and knocks her unconscious.