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He opened the driver's door and climbed in while pulling out his phone.
The location Hank had sent him was still open on the screen.
Red and blue patrol lights flashed through the snow, illuminating the park in intermittent bursts.
He pressed the brake.
—Crrrch…
The SUV came to a stop beside the police tape.
The freezing wind hit him the moment he opened the door.
—Crunch… crunch…
The sound of boots sinking into the snow broke the heavy silence surrounding the scene.
—Detective.
Atwater approached, bundled up in a thick jacket, exhaling a cloud of vapor as he spoke.
His expression was more serious than usual.
—They're right over here —he said quietly— I think this is connected to the case from this morning.
—Bang!
Ethan shut the vehicle door and walked alongside Voight toward the perimeter.
Near one of the patrol cars, four bodies lay arranged with unsettling precision. They were positioned back to back, forming a sort of cross over the snow.
Their feet had been secured with gray industrial tape.
Wet, disheveled hair mixed with dark stains of dried blood. Each one had a clean gunshot wound to the back of the skull.
Executions.
The blood had already coagulated around their heads, forming dark layers against the white snow.
A few feet away, a drag mark cut across the park like a pink scar, showing the bodies had been moved after death.
Ethan studied the scene in silence.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and took several photos of the scene from different angles. After putting the phone away, he remained still for a few more seconds, carefully observing the details.
—What do you think? —Hank asked beside him.
Ethan kept his eyes fixed on the bodies.
—They're not exactly subtle when it comes to sending messages.
He stepped closer and crouched beside one of the victims.
The snow around them was compressed in several places.
—They were killed somewhere else —he finally said—. There's far too little blood here for four gunshots to the head. They dragged them here after they died and arranged them into a cross.
He looked up at the positioning of the bodies.
—And they didn't do it quickly. They took their time setting this up… somebody wanted to make sure whoever found the scene understood the message.
Hank watched in silence.
He gave a small nod.
—We need to move fast. We can't let this turn into a war.
Hit one of them… they answer with four.
If the Saints responded with the same intensity, the conflict would escalate quickly.
Ethan glanced at the patrol officer standing beside Atwater and pulled him slightly aside.
—You changed partners?
—Temporarily.
Atwater stomped his feet against the cold.
—Ruzek called Burgess. Said they needed her.
—Ah… right.
Ethan had no idea what Ruzek was planning, but he nodded.
—Go ahead.
Hank looked at both of them.
—Stay here. Wait for forensics and ask around if anyone saw anything.
The two officers nodded, resigned to the freezing cold.
Later, once the scene had started clearing out and the forensic team was finishing covering the bodies, Ethan caught up with Hank near the improvised parking area beside the park.
The snow crunched beneath their boots as they walked toward the vehicles.
—Hank.
Voight stopped halfway and slightly turned his head.
—I need to tell you something.
The sergeant studied him for a moment before pulling a cigarette pack from his jacket pocket.
—Is this about Halstead?
Ethan noticed he already suspected it.
—Yeah.
Hank lit the cigarette with a metal lighter and took a long drag before speaking.
—What about him?
Smoke slowly escaped his mouth while Ethan explained what Jin had found: Rodiger's purchases, Jay's reaction, and the concern that he might be close to doing something impulsive.
With every word, Voight's expression hardened further.
When Ethan finished, Hank stayed silent for a few seconds, staring at the snow in front of him.
He took another deep drag.
—Idiot…
It wasn't clear whether he meant Rodiger… or Halstead.
Voight threw the cigarette to the ground and crushed it into the snow beneath the tip of his boot.
—I already warned him —Hank said with restrained irritation— The father, Roddy J., already filed a complaint with Internal Affairs. Says Halstead's been harassing his family. This morning, they called me to warn me to keep an eye on him.
His tone made it clear the situation bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
Voight protected his people almost by instinct, but he also knew when someone was getting dangerously close to crossing the line.
And Jay had been walking right on top of it for days.
—Do you think he'll actually do something? —Ethan asked.
Hank took a few seconds before answering.
—Halstead believes that the bastard killed a child and walked free —he finally said—. When someone carries that around for years… they stop thinking like a detective and start thinking like something else.
Ethan watched Voight's hardened expression and understood he wasn't speaking only from professional experience.
Hank had seen too many cops destroy themselves trying to fix things the system never could.
—So now what?
Ethan leaned against the car.
Hank sighed.
—One step at a time.
—First, we deal with Lexi's situation.
Back in the bullpen, they spotted Burgess. She had changed out of uniform and into civilian clothes: jeans, a red jacket, and a crossbody bag.
It wasn't the moment for questions.
Ethan printed the photos and pinned them to the board.
—Alright, everyone, gather up.
Hank crossed his arms.
—Four Saints gang members were executed a few hours ago. Their bodies were arranged like this… as a warning. The Disciples are sending a message, and we need to stop this before it escalates.
Antonio stepped forward, holding a photograph.
Antonio returned to Intelligence with snow still clinging to the shoulders of his jacket.
The atmosphere inside the unit remained tense. Several photos from the Harrison Park scene had already been pinned to the main board alongside maps, names, and gang symbols.
—I went to the hospital —he said while dropping a folder onto the table— Russell's mother didn't know anything.
Erin immediately looked up.
—Nothing?
Antonio slowly shook his head.
—She didn't even know her son was involved with a gang.
Hank placed both hands on the table, waiting for him to continue.
—But she mentioned a name —Antonio added while pulling out a photograph—. Said she heard it several times when Russell talked on the phone.
He pinned the photo to the board with force.
—Lamark Pierce.
The photograph showed a hard-faced man with visible neck tattoos and a cold expression even in his mugshot.
Atwater muttered a curse under his breath.
—Yeah, I know him.
Antonio nodded.
—He's one of the Disciples' leaders. Dangerous guy.
Voight stepped forward and struck the board with the marker.
—We start with Pierce.
His voice sounded firm and sharp.
—He might know where "Calavera" is. And even if he doesn't —Hank added calmly— we need to make it clear we won't tolerate another retaliation.
Because if the Disciples kept responding with public executions, Chicago would turn into an open war before the week was over.
Everyone nodded.
Hank lifted his gaze from the board and then noticed Burgess standing near the entrance.
He immediately frowned.
—What are you doing here?
His serious tone made the entire room fall silent for a moment.
A patrol officer inside Intelligence, without warning, was not something Voight tolerated easily.
Burgess tensed almost instantly. She straightened her posture and looked toward Ruzek, clearly uncomfortable under everyone's attention.
Before she could answer, Ruzek quickly stood up.
—I called her, Sergeant.
Hank slowly turned toward him.
Ruzek swallowed and kept talking before he lost his nerve.
—The Saints are running an active phone theft operation —Ruzek explained— They use teenagers around Michigan Avenue, from the Magnificent Mile to Millennium Park.
As he spoke, he walked over to the map pinned to the wall and pointed at several areas marked in red.
—They blend in with tourists, steal phones, then refurbish them and sell them outside the city.
Voight remained silent, so Ruzek kept going.
—If Calavera works for the Saints, there's a good chance he's still connected to that network.
He took a breath before getting to the important part.
—Burgess will pose as a tourist carrying a traceable phone. Once they steal it, we follow the signal back to the receiver.
His finger tapped one of the marked points on the map.
—And that could lead us directly to Calavera or their base of operations.
The room stayed silent for several seconds.
Nobody said anything because, honestly, the plan made sense.
Hank first looked at Burgess, who was still standing stiffly near the entrance.
Then he looked at Ruzek.
Finally, he turned his attention back to the map.
He hated it when people took initiative without telling him. Especially inside his unit. But the problem was that the rookie's plan actually worked.
He thought for a few seconds before pointing a finger toward his office.
—You… inside.
The tension instantly returned.
Burgess slightly widened her eyes, clearly nervous.
Ruzek, on the other hand, had already expected this. He took a deep breath and walked toward the sergeant's office while several people silently watched him.
When Ruzek closed the office door behind him and turned around, he found Hank sitting behind the desk waiting for him.
The atmosphere felt heavy.
Voight leaned back in his chair, legs crossed, wearing an expression that promised nothing good.
Ruzek straightened almost automatically and placed his hands behind his back.
—Sergeant.
Hank stared at him for several seconds before speaking.
—Who gave you the authority to move a patrol officer around on your own?
His voice was low, but cold.
Then he tilted his head slightly.
—Or better yet… what made you think you could call a patrol officer upstairs and set up an operation without informing me?
Ruzek swallowed, though he kept his posture.
—I apologize, Sergeant. That was my mistake.
Hank didn't respond.
—You gave the order this morning to do whatever it took to find the shooter —Ruzek added— I was just trying to do the job.
And then he immediately shut his mouth.
He was already bracing for the lecture.
Or worse.
The silence stretched for several seconds. Hank's expression remained hard, though deep in his eyes there was something close to approval.
Voight had never tolerated cops who were too rigid. As long as someone got the job done properly and had a valid reason… he could tolerate almost anything.
Finally, he folded his hands over his stomach and tapped his fingers once.
—Good idea.
Ruzek barely lifted his gaze.
—You can try it.
The tension instantly left his body.
—Thank you, Sergeant.
But Hank raised one finger before he could relax too much.
—But you're not leading the operation.
Ruzek nodded immediately.
That was fair.
Voight stood from the chair.
—Stay here and help us with Pierce.
Having a rookie lead an undercover operation involving patrol sounded bad from every possible angle.
They already had enough problems.
When the two men walked back out of the office, every eye in Intelligence turned toward them.
Ruzek, walking behind Hank, made an exaggerated gesture, wiping sweat from his forehead.
That alone told everyone he was still alive.
—Ethan.
Voight scanned the room and made the decision instantly.
—Take Burgess and follow Ruzek's idea.
Ethan slightly raised an eyebrow.
—You sure? It was his idea. Maybe he should go.
—I'm good with that —Ruzek immediately cut in, giving a thumbs-up— Honestly, I feel better if you're the one going.
Ethan looked at him for a second before finally nodding.
—Alright.
Ruzek grabbed a phone from the desk and handed it over.
—It has a tracker installed. Even if they turn it off or remove the battery, it'll keep sending a signal.
Ethan didn't respond. He simply gave Ruzek a quick pat on the shoulder before grabbing the gear and putting on his jacket.
Then he gestured toward Burgess.
—Let's go.
The moment they stepped through the station's metal gate, Burgess let out a sharp breath.
—God… did you see the way Voight looked at us? I thought he was going to kill us.
—You'll get used to it —Ethan said, amused, while handing her the bait phone— Besides, you were just following orders.
They climbed into the Interceptor, and Ethan started the engine.
—You know this area better than I do —he said as they pulled onto the avenue—. Where would you set the bait?
Burgess thought for a few seconds.
—Millennium Park.
Ethan nodded.