Ethan stepped through the doors of the intelligence unit as soon as they returned to the precinct. The place smelled of reheated coffee and old paper, as it always did.
Behind one of the desks, Detective Rollins was speaking on a landline phone. She held the receiver between her shoulder and ear while jotting down quick notes in a notebook. When she noticed them, she looked up and raised a hand, asking for one more second.
—Yes… of course… I understand —she said in a flat, mechanical tone—. If you have any further information, please call back. Thank you.
She hung up with a short sigh, irritation clearly visible on her face.
—Let me guess—reporters and busybodies.
—You have no idea.
Ethan offered a tired smile, but then remembered he had assigned someone to handle that situation, and the thought clearly annoyed him.
—Where's Burgess?
Amanda shook her head and added:
—You mean the officer? We haven't seen her since we left the interrogation room. I guess she went out to get some air… or lunch.
Before Ethan could reply, the shrill ring of the landline cut through the room again.
Ding-a-ling! Ding-a-ling! Ding-a-ling!
Rollins made an exasperated gesture.
—And here we go again…
Ethan stepped forward and picked up the receiver before she could.
—Chicago Police —he said firmly.
He listened for only a few seconds. His features hardened.
—No, there will be no interview today —he said, clearly annoyed—. No, not tomorrow either. When there's something official, you'll hear it from the press office.
He hung up without saying goodbye and, without hesitation, unplugged the phone cord.
Rollins stared at him, surprised.
—Did you just… disconnect the phone?
—Yes —Ethan replied calmly—. I don't think we'll get anything useful from those calls. Besides, they're a nuisance.
She studied him for a moment. That detective was young—too young for the position he held—but he carried himself with unusual confidence. He didn't even seem concerned about the possibility of the boss showing up demanding explanations.
Ethan met her gaze and gave a faint smile. Then he let the cord drop to the floor with a dull thud.
—Tell me something —he asked—. Has Jeffrey Baker been released yet?
—Yes —Rollins nodded—. A patrol officer came by a few minutes ago and escorted him out of the building. He didn't seem surprised.
—As if he was expecting it —Ethan murmured.
—Exactly.
—Hey!
Hank's voice echoed from the doorway. He approached quickly, a folder tucked under his arm.
—Rollins, you were observing our suspect, right?
Rollins moved toward the board.
—What we just witnessed confirms my assessment —she said without lifting her eyes from the reports—. He's a rapist driven by persistent anger, resentful, with a strong need for punishment and control.
Erin and Antonio stepped closer to listen to her analysis.
—If this subject were truly rational, he would have already fled Chicago and gone into hiding in another city.
Rollins spread her hands on the table, emphasizing her point.
—But he stayed. And what just happened proves he's been provoked. There's another detail we all need to pay attention to.
She looked up at Erin.
—How are the injured girl's ears?
Erin immediately understood where the question was going and nodded.
—They're still intact.
—That's good news for her —Rollins said, then turned to Hank—, but not for us. His impulses aren't being satisfied, which means he'll strike again soon to regain the control he feels he's lost.
Odafin spoke up, frowning:
—Besides, the subject knows perfectly well that we can obtain his DNA from that victim.
—His identity will be exposed sooner or later —Rollins added.
—And with those two factors combined —Orinfen concluded—, it's almost certain he'll look for another chance to attack, and he'll do it very soon.
—Something isn't right. Detective, correct me if I'm wrong, but from the beginning there was a pattern —Ethan said, placing both hands on the table—. Young women. White. Blonde.
Rollins lifted her gaze from the file, intrigued.
—Always the same victim type —she nodded—. He followed them. Studied them. He was patient.
—And methodical —Ethan continued—. That's why this last attack doesn't fit. The girl is African American. There was no stalking, no preparation. It was improvised.
Odafin frowned and slowly flipped through the report.
—She fought back —he said—. And she survived.
—Exactly —Ethan replied—. He didn't have time to kill her. He was forced to retreat. That had never happened before.
Rollins closed the file with a sharp thud.
—So his modus operandi changed.
—Not by choice —Ethan countered—. By necessity. Something forced him to act outside his pattern.
Odafin looked up, serious.
—An opportunity he couldn't pass up?
Ethan shook his head.
—No. It was a distraction.
Silence settled over the room for a few seconds.
—A distraction for what? —Rollins asked.
—To make us look the other way. It's no coincidence he attacked again in the same area right after the last body was found —Ethan said, pointing to the file—. A killer like this doesn't suddenly become sloppy.
Odafin crossed his arms.
—You're thinking he's not working alone.
—I'm stating it —Ethan replied without hesitation—. I think there are two of them.
Rollins studied him closely.
—And the second one?
Ethan took a deep breath before answering.
—I think Baker is his accomplice.
—I think Ethan has a point —Hank said from the doorway, arms crossed—. Let's treat this as two suspects for now. Maybe it's not Baker… but there are too many coincidences for my liking.
No one spoke after that. Everyone nodded. None of them needed to say it out loud: it wasn't good news.
—Ethan, reconnect the phone —Hank said, scratching his cheek—. We can't afford to miss any leads right now. We don't want to ignore anything if another girl could get hurt.
—I'll do it.
Erin stepped forward, plugged the phone back in, and it immediately began to ring.
—I'll handle it, Ethan.
—Thanks.
Ethan shrugged.
They all worked in the same office and knew each other well.
Everyone knew Ethan hated those routine tasks, so Erin took the initiative.
It was time to issue a citywide alert, relying on the thousands of patrol officers across the city. For now, there was nothing else they could do.
Ethan went to the break room for a coffee and stepped out onto the balcony to smoke.
—Mind if I have one?
A moment later, Rollins stepped outside as well, gesturing toward the pack of cigarettes beside him.
—Go ahead.
Ethan tapped the ash away and took a sip of his coffee.
—Click.
Rollins lit a cigarette, holding it between her long fingers as she slowly exhaled the smoke.
—Out of everyone here, you're the one I find hardest to figure out.
—What's that supposed to mean? —he asked without looking up.
Rollins gave a half-smile.
—Just… professional curiosity. When you've been in this job long enough, it becomes a habit to observe people and try to understand them —she said.
That made Ethan lift his head.
—Curiosity?
—Exactly.
—Go on. I want to know what you see.
Rollins crossed her arms, her tone light, almost conversational.
—You're unconventional —she finally said—. You don't follow the book to the letter, but you don't act blindly either. You move fast, like the decision's already been made while everyone else is still trying to figure out what's going on.
Ethan looked up from the file, more intrigued than defensive.
—Is that a good thing or a bad thing? —he asked, genuinely curious.
—Depends on the context —she replied—. In your case, it seems like a control mechanism. You don't like being at the mercy of others, so you reduce uncertainty by taking the initiative.
She paused briefly, then added with a hint of irony:
—Although, according to the rumors going around the station, you're also a bit trigger-happy.
Ethan let out a short laugh. That part was absolutely true.
—And what does that say about me?
Rollins thought for a second.
—That you trust your own judgment more than the structure or the chain of command —she said—. And that you don't mind bearing the consequences. You've got something… very specific.
She tilted her head, almost amused.
—A slight action-hero complex. Tell me, have you seen Cobra? The classic.
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
—Bad cop with a Colt .45, dark sunglasses, and a matchstick in his mouth?
—That's the one —she nodded.
Ethan slowly shook his head, smiling.
—Anything else? I thought you'd say I have authority issues.
Rollins hesitated for a second, then continued:
—That too —she admitted—. But not out of rebellion. It's because you can't tolerate incompetent people making decisions for you.
Ethan smiled, genuinely.
—I suppose you're not wrong.
Rollins straightened.
—Does it bother you, being analyzed?
—No —he replied—. It would bother me more not knowing how people see me.
She tilted her head in approval.
—That confirms something else.
—What's that?
—That if you ever switched sides… you'd be dangerous.
Ethan held her gaze, serious now.
—That's why I prefer to stay on this side.
Rollins picked up her coffee and walked away.
—Good instinct, detective.
Amanda turned to head back into the room.
Back at his desk, Ethan was settling into his seat when Burgess came running up the stairs, visibly frantic.
—Hey! Easy. Take a breath. Where have you been?
Ethan stood up, hands out in a calming gesture.
—I was following a lead, Detective. After learning the physical characteristics of the attacker that everyone identified, I contacted every pharmacy within a two-mile radius of the crime scene.
She paused briefly, trying to catch her breath.
—At a Walgreens on Superior Street, they reported that someone matching the description bought gauze, disinfectant, and sunglasses. But they needed confirmation that it was part of a police investigation, so I went there personally.
Burgess, slightly embarrassed, stepped closer and whispered:
—Sir… he matches the witnesses' description.
Ethan motioned for her to stop and took the folder.
When he opened the door, he saw a white man with blond hair and brown eyes who looked up, tense. Instantly, Ethan felt that familiar pull in his gut: based on Burgess's description, there was no doubt this was the suspect they were looking for.
—This is— Burgess began, stepping forward.
—Wait —Ethan interrupted, raising a finger without taking his eyes off the man.
Burgess closed her mouth, clearly annoyed, and tightened her grip on her duty belt. Ethan, meanwhile, was already moving. He pivoted on his heels and walked quickly to Hank's office. He knocked on the glass with his knuckles and gave him a clear signal to come out.
—Guys! —he called out as he returned to the room—. We've got new information.
He slapped the table to get everyone's attention and headed straight for the board. Once everyone had gathered, he cleared his throat deliberately.
—Listen —he said firmly—. We've just uncovered an important lead.
The murmur of the open room died instantly. Several heads lifted at once. Hank stepped out of his office, frowning.
—What did you find? —he asked.
Ethan turned slightly and gestured with his hand.
—You. Come here.
Then he looked at Burgess and motioned for her to step forward.
She blinked, surprised.
—Me?
The expectant silence that followed made it clear that what was about to be said would change the course of the case.
Burgess straightened, trying to compose herself. Color rose to her cheeks as she took a deep breath before stepping forward. She had taken the initiative… and now she was exposed in front of everyone.
Ethan slid a chair aside, clearing space in front of the board.
—Go on —he said quietly—. Say it.
—Uh—
Burgess blinked, still flustered. The intelligence team and two New York detectives watched her in silence. She felt sweat dampen her palms. Gathering her thoughts quickly, she repeated what she had already told Ethan.
With fingers that were only barely steady, she placed the photograph on the board.
—This man's name is Neil Vance.
She swallowed and continued.
—He used a credit card at a pharmacy near the crime scene. I spoke with Jin and obtained records from the past few days. He's been staying at the Plaza Hotel for the last six days.
—And his card also shows transactions in New York during the time frame of the murders…
She pointed to the image, finished, and let her hand fall to her side.
—That's everything I was able to find.
For a second, no one spoke. Then Hank stepped forward.
—Well done —he said approvingly, giving her a firm pat on the arm—. Don't be nervous. You did a great job.
The atmosphere shifted immediately. Several team members stepped forward to congratulate her, offering sincere gestures and murmurs of approval.
Unexpectedly, Burgess was the first to break the lingering awkward silence. She was so excited she felt like she was floating, though she struggled to maintain her composure.
Then she noticed the person seated in the corner of the room. Her breathing quickened, her chest filling with quiet gratitude.
Without saying a word, she knew the moment had been worth it. Ethan winked at her and gave her a thumbs-up.
The intelligence unit had always been Burgess's long-term goal; getting into that department hadn't been easy. Many people weren't incapable—they simply never got the opportunity to prove their skills.
She had expected a reprimand, but instead Ethan surprised her by letting her speak freely in front of a room full of detectives, which turned out to be a major advantage for her.
Before she could say anything to Ethan, Hank clapped his hands.
—Let's move —Hank ordered—. We're going after Vance at the Plaza Hotel, before he leaves the city.
There were no further questions. Everyone hurried to grab their gear and head for the exit.
—Good work.
Ethan gave a faint smile, patted Burgess on the shoulder, grabbed his coat, and headed down the stairs at a brisk pace.
When they arrived at the hotel, the group didn't rush inside. They spread out carefully: the rest of the team stayed in the parking area, alert, while Antonio went in alone to gather information without drawing attention.
Minutes later, his voice came through the earpieces.
—Neil Vance hasn't returned to the hotel yet.
Hank didn't hesitate.
—Keep eyes on the lobby. We'll cover the exterior.
Vance's photograph had already been distributed and flagged as a top priority across all exit routes out of Chicago: airports, train stations, and long-distance bus terminals. Escaping the city would be nearly impossible.
Even so, they needed to stop him as soon as possible.
The reason was simple—and dangerous: a cornered killer doesn't think clearly. He could try to flee in desperation… and in the process, more people could get hurt.
—Hank… —Ethan said, pressing the microphone—. Any word from Olinsky?
—I just spoke to him on the phone —Hank replied—. Baker hasn't returned to the hotel, but he's been hanging around the area. Nothing unusual so far.
—Copy that.
Ethan rested his chin in his hand, watching the constant flow of people entering and leaving the hotel. Every face was assessed, dismissed, then reassessed. The waiting was starting to wear on him.
Erin stopped drifting and focused entirely on what was happening outside the vehicle. After returning from the hospital, she had skipped the alumni reunion scheduled for that night without hesitation and devoted herself fully to the job. There was no room for distractions.
Catching the killer wasn't just a professional goal. It was a promise she had made to that girl.
Half an hour later, a family car appeared in the rearview mirror.
—What is it? —Erin asked, turning toward him.
—I think I just saw Olinsky's car pulling into the hotel.
There was a second of silence before Hank's voice came through the earpiece, low and controlled.
—I saw it too. And there's a taxi in front of him.
He immediately took command.
—Antonio, take the elevator to the floor where Neil Vance is staying. Stay out of sight. Baker just entered the hotel… check if they meet.
—Copy —Antonio replied.
Moments later, the taxi stopped in front of the hotel's main entrance.
The vehicles behind it continued toward the parking area near the entrance. For a second, everything seemed normal… until Ethan saw who was driving the car that had just stopped.
Olinsky and Rusek.
When they recognized Hank, their eyes widened in surprise. And when they spotted Ethan and Erin across the street, Olinsky immediately confirmed what he had already begun to suspect.
He didn't know exactly where the killer was. But he knew one thing: that group only came together when they were about to surveil or arrest someone.
Ethan's words echoed loudly in his mind: Baker is the accomplice.
At that moment, the taxi door opened.
With his characteristic blond hair, Jeffrey Baker hurried out of the vehicle and headed into the hotel without looking back.
—Attention, everyone —Hank's firm voice sounded through the earpieces—. No need to wait for Vance. Antonio, the moment Baker exits the elevator, proceed with immediate arrest.
Without a word, Ethan and Erin opened their car doors and entered the hotel at a fast pace. In the distance, Olinsky and Rusek did the same, running toward the side entrance.