Chapter Text
They had three victims from three completely different backgrounds; three different ethnicities, age and gender and no matter how deep they dug through the trash the only thing they could find linking the victims to each other was the M.O and the fact that at the end of the day it just seemed to be a completely random series of attacks perpetrated by the same person for absolutely no reason.
“All victims were stabbed twice, once in the flank and once in the side. We believe he came up from behind and surprised them; the first stab wasn’t meant to kill, only to incapacitate. They also had bruising around the neck to support that theory. The second was to keep them down. Two of the three victim suffered multiple broken bones, bruises and contusions and internal damage from a beating but all three died as a result of severe blood loss. Whoever this guy is and whatever he wants from them, this guy has got some serious beef with these people.” Antonio finished his assessment and returned back to sit perched on the side of his desk.
“The only thing in common in these cases are the M.O’s,” Jay started, “The victims have nothing in common that we can find that links them to one another. Yvonne Miller: thirty-seven, mother of two. No priors, no record, nothing to indicate that she was anything other than a squeaky clean mom who does carpool on the weekdays. Hubert Harris the Third, fifty-three,” Jay placed special emphasis on the title, “Drill Sergeant in the army for over twenty years, no criminal record, no priors, not even a parking ticket. The fact that he went through life, much less the army and up to the rank of Drill Sergeant with the name Hubert Harris the Third meant that this was definitely not a guy to be messed with. And Javier Herrera, twenty-seven. Just got back from two tours overseas, spotless record on all fronts and an absolutely stand-up guy from what we gathered from the people who knew him. Had no beef with anyone. He was attacked in the alley behind his house; DOA. No witnesses in any of these cases.”
“Well the fact that their faces are pinned up on that board and their bodies lying cold in the morgue meant that they definitely had beef with someone, and I want to know who, where and why,” ordered Voight, his gravelly voice almost rumbling through the walls of the bullpen of the Intelligence headquarters of the CPD. “And I needed that information five minutes ago.”
A chorus of ‘yes, Serge’s rang up as everyone dispersed to return to their own desks.
It was a case they’d been working on ever since the discovery of the first victim, Yvonne Miller, a widowed single mother, in her apartment by her landlord almost three weeks ago. She died as a result of shock from the blood loss at the hospital later that day. The second victim died on the way to the hospital and the third was dead before the first unit was even the scene and neither CPD nor the Intelligence Unit was any close to identifying the killer. The best lead they had was a next door neighbour of the second victim hearing the sound of a male voice yelling what, according to him, sounded like Arabic, in the apartment the evening before the victim’s body was found. They’d found nothing to indicate that it was a racially motivated crime however. And there were no cameras at any of the exits or on the street and no one saw anyone coming or leaving the crime scene at any point before or after the attack, so they found themselves up against a brick wall in regards to that lead.
Essentially, they had bupkis.
So getting the call that another victim had been found beaten in his apartment later that morning did nothing to ease the tweaked up nerves of everyone working the case, only the fact that he was still alive and was on route to Med kept most of them from wanting to punch a wall.
“Troy Hargreaves,” said Will Halstead who was waiting for their arrival at the entrance of the hospital, starting his assessment without waiting for the go ahead, “Thirty-two; stabbed once in the lumbar area and once in the lower right abdomen, multiple contusions to the torso, broken ribs, ruptured spleen. He’s up in surgery as we speak. His injuries look severe but I’m optimistic about his chances. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that this definitely fits the same pattern as the other victims.”
Voight scrubbed his face with his hand almost like a nervous habit, but anyone who knew him knew that Voight didn’t get nervous. Most likely it was out of frustration and anger. They weren’t any closer to catching the guy and from what little they could deduce, it didn’t seem like he was likely to stop until he got whatever it was he wanted or whoever it was he wanted.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of sitting around with my thumb up my ass watching this guy get one up on us again,” said Voight, the frustration obvious on his face, not acknowledging Olinsky coming up behind him and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder to calm him down.
“It’s late, we’re all fired up from this asshole giving us the run around. I’ll wait for the vic to come out of surgery and update you on what I can get from him, the rest of you – go home, rest up and come back fresh faced in the morning,” said Olinsky, “Well, as fresh faced as you ugly lot can get,” he added with a wisp of a smile; his voice soft and his characteristic as of calmness extending to the rest of the team.
“Al’s right,” said Voight after a beat, exhaling tiredly. “Go home.”
“You sure, boss?” Ruzek asked, looking around at the rest of the group. It was obvious that the offer was the most tempting to him though all of them looked equally dead on their feet after almost going almost forty-eight hours without sleep trying to find the perp before he struck again only to have found themselves left in the bloodied dust trail once again.
“You gonna make me say it twice?” asked Voight with a stern look in Ruzek’s direction.
“No, boss,” said Ruzek immediately, arms raised in front of him.
“Then get the hell out of here.”
None of them struck around to be told a third time.
“I swear to god I’m gonna put two bullets right in the middle his face when we catch this bastard and then go home and sleep like a baby,” said Ruzek as he and the rest of the team made their way down the hospital corridor towards the exit.
Usually it’s be one of them – Ruzek, Kim or Atwater tasked to stay behind because they were the newer members, but Al had insisted and none of them really wanted to be alone with Voight in a closed space while he was in that particular mood.
“I definitely second the suggestion,” said Kim a little too heartily.
“Get in line,” said Hailey. The threat would have come across a lot more menacing had she not been in the middle of a yawn; her arms stretched high above her head like a cat.
“Well I for one would be happy if we managed to even catch the guy and put a stop to all this,” said Atwater. “That’d do my sleep a world of good already.”
Jay had many things to add to the conversation but the strength to say none of them. He was tired, physically and mentally so he just opted for an amused chuckle from where he was walking just a few steps behind the rest of the team
“How about a drink at Molly’s before we turn in?” suggested Ruzek once conversation had begun tapering off. “God knows we could all use a stiff one– or five.”
Atwater was immediately down for the plan though Hailey and Kim both seemed equally undecided.
Jay however wasn’t in the mood for the drink or the company. He was too wired from the lack of sleep and too much caffeine and quite frankly too pissed to be good company. Something about the case, especially the fact that two of the victims were Vets, just struck a chord in him. He always felt a strange sort of camaraderie, whether they were the victims or the perps, when it came to people who’d served. He imagined the victims being someone he knew, someone he served with – a brother. At the same time, the person who’d committed the crime could have just as easily been someone he knew or someone he served with.
Hell, it could have just as easily been him.
If it hadn’t been for Mouse being there for him – if there hadn’t been the thought in the back of his mind when he was at his lowest that he was just as much Mouse’s crutch as he was his; if it hadn’t been for the police force giving him an outlet to channel his silent rage and his trauma and anxiety, he could have just as easily turned out to be one of the people he put away.
Sure he had Will and maybe his dad to some extent, but they didn’t understand. They couldn’t understand. They weren’t there. They didn’t experience what he experienced. They didn’t see what he saw. They didn’t feel what he felt: the fear and helplessness and shame.
And they definitely couldn’t deal with it – deal with him, the way Mouse had been able to – by just being there, but just understanding without having to be explained; by knowing without having to be told.
Will had the natural instinct to want to fix everything; to find a source of the ailment and apply a treatment and a cure – that’s what made him such a good doctor.
But Jay didn’t need a doctor, he needed a brother and that was something Will was unable to be to him at the time. Their relationship had improved much since then, but still when situations like this arose, the absence of Mouse felt so much more apparent.
Jay knew he wasn’t going to be such good company – he could already feel like anxiety levels getting progressively higher the longer he remained in the vicinity of the hospital. Hospitals all smelled the same and had the same kind of aura pulsating off it. It didn’t matter if it was on home soil or in some run down building in another third world country – it always smelled the same and at that point Jay just wanted to be home.
“Nah, guys,” said Jay. “I think I’m gonna turn in early.”
“You sure, Jay?” asked Ruzek. “You’re gonna miss out. Atwater’s paying. This phenomenon only happens once in a blue moon,” he said with a mischievous grin. “Pigs might even fly!”
Atwater scoffed. “Yeah, Jay. I’ll be doing the paying with money from Ruzek’s pocket. You won’t want to miss the spectacle. I don’t think anyone but flies have ever seen the inside of his raggedy ass wallet.”
“I’ll have you know, Atwater, that I was voted ‘most generous’ by the whole sophomore girls swim team for two years in a row.”
“Yeah,” said Atwater, completely deadpan. “I’m sure teenage you was definitely generous with something.”
“Hey!” objected Ruzek, mock offended.
“Anyway,” said Jay, cutting into the conversation, “Based on this conversation alone I’m sure it’s gonna be a hoot and a half, but I think I’ll pass, You guys have fun though,” he said, which in Jay-speak meant that the conversation was done.
The girls had opted to join in for ‘just one drink’ which was usually code for ‘more than one drink’, but once Jay decided on a course of action, it was very hard to change his mind.
“You’re seriously no fun, Halstead,” said Ruzek teasingly at his retreating back.
“I’m loads of fun,” said Jay from over his shoulder, “Just with better company than you.”
Ruzek’s response was a hearty laugh topped off with a middle finger salute but Jay had already stepped around the corner and out of sight and didn’t see. He felt no need to turn back for a second look at his team; he’d see their ugly mugs in the morning anyway.
He took a detour to find Will on his way out – which was ironically easier in theory than in reality, especially considering it was his brother’s place of work – to take a rain check on their bi-annual game night get together. They hadn’t had one in a while, what with the influx of work on both their parts, and despite their insistence on not cancelling this time no matter what, Jay really just wasn’t in the mood or the headspace to want to be around anyone.
Jay wondered whether they should just cancel it all together because making plans was never something that aligned with their day jobs.
Fortunately Will wasn’t too disappointed by the cancellation, mainly because he’d been on the same train of through, only slightly more hesitant about it. He’d just come off a double shift and like Jay was planning on spending the night in the company of his own bed, which was a completely acceptable reason in Jay’s book.
They shared a hug and a casual insult before Jay finally stepped out of the hospital, into his truck and drove out of the parking lot with a roar of the exhaust.
Nothing else of importance happened the rest of the day.
tbc.