Inside the car, Ethan glanced at Burgess's outfit.
The red jacket stood out even beneath the gray winter light. The light-colored scarf and beige boots completed a look that was far too eye-catching for someone trying to blend into Chicago unnoticed.
He watched her for a moment before starting the engine.
—Did Ruzek pick that out, or was it your idea?
Burgess looked down at her clothes, confused by the comment.
—Hey, I think I look pretty good —she replied while adjusting the sleeve of her jacket— Besides, I'm supposed to look like a clueless tourist.
She shifted slightly in her seat, defending her argument with surprising conviction.
—Locals usually dress more quietly. Tourists are the ones wearing bright colors, carrying giant coffees, and stopping to photograph every building they see.
A faint smile appeared at the corner of Ethan's mouth.
—I can't argue with that logic.
He looked back at the red jacket.
—You definitely look like the kind of victim someone would target first.
Instead of being offended, Burgess smiled proudly.
She lowered the visor mirror and quickly fixed her hair before snapping it shut again.
Millennium Park was still crowded despite the cold.
Snow drifted slowly through the streets while visitors wandered among lights, steam, and muted conversations, stopping to take pictures or admire Chicago's winter scenery.
In the distance, the massive metallic structure of Cloud Gate dominated the area.
Its polished surface reflected the buildings, lights, and people moving beneath it, warping the entire city under the gray evening sky.
—I never understood why they call it Cloud Gate —Ethan commented while looking at the enormous "Bean."
—Because "The Bean" sounds less artistic —Burgess replied through the earpiece while settling into a nearby table.
Ethan barely smiled.
She pretended to be an impressed tourist, staring at the surrounding buildings while holding the tracker phone beside her coffee cup.
—Tone it down a little —Ethan murmured from a distance— You need to look more innocent.
—More innocent? I'm already acting like a lost girl from Iowa.
—Yeah. And you're doing it a little too well.
Burgess rolled her eyes.
—Was that an insult?
—I'm still deciding.
She was about to answer when Ethan noticed movement near the skate ramps.
Three teenagers.
One of them caught Ethan's attention almost immediately.
Gray jacket. Dark red beanie.
At first glance, he looked like any other teenager spending the afternoon in the park, but something felt off. While the others focused on their skateboards and the ramps, that kid barely participated.
His attention kept drifting back toward the table where Burgess pretended to check her phone while drinking coffee.
Ethan briefly looked away from the metal sculpture and spoke quietly into the earpiece.
—Stay sharp. I think somebody took the bait.
There wasn't time for anything else.
The teenager shoved his skateboard against the ground and shot forward at full speed. The wheels rattled across the wet pavement as he cut through the plaza between tourists, children, and couples walking beneath the falling snow.
Everything happened in an instant.
He passed Burgess's table like a gray blur.
A hand dropped.
The phone disappeared.
And the kid was already gone before anyone nearby realized what had happened.
—Hey! What the hell?!
Burgess's chair scraped loudly against the ground as she jumped to her feet.
She ran after him without breaking character for even a second, mixing real frustration with the performance of an angry tourist who had just lost her brand-new phone.
But the kid was good.
Very good.
The skateboard zigzagged effortlessly through the crowd, weaving around benches, slushy puddles, and groups of people without losing speed. Clearly, this wasn't his first time doing it.
Burgess managed to keep up for half the length of the plaza before losing him in the crowd.
Eventually, she stopped, breathing hard, her cheeks red from both the cold and the chase.
She looked around but found no sign of the thief.
—I hope you enjoy the new phone, you little bastard! —She shouted in frustration at no one in particular.
Several yards away, Ethan calmly watched the tracker screen.
A small light had just started moving across the map of Chicago.
And this time, they were following it straight back to the nest.
—I'll give you a nine out of ten for the performance —Ethan said while watching the tracker move across the phone screen— The ending was a little forced, but overall it was convincing.
Satisfied that the bait had worked, he calmly started walking toward the edge of the plaza.
—Split up. Meet me at the parking lot.
Burgess was still pumped from the chase. She raised a fist and threw a punch into the air in the direction where the kid in the red beanie had disappeared.
—Why a nine? —She asked while walking after him— And what point did I miss?
She stopped for a second, hands on her hips, clearly offended.
Ethan barely held back a smile.
—Because you didn't ask for help.
—What?
—You never yelled for the police. You just chased after him.
Burgess frowned.
—Please… nobody here was going to do anything. And by the time a patrol car showed up, that kid would've already been halfway across the city.
—Yeah, you know that —Ethan replied without stopping— But right now, you weren't Kim Burgess.
She stayed silent for a moment.
A few feet away, the red coat stood out among the crowd, and the snow still drifted slowly through the park.
She exhaled through her nose in resignation.
—Alright… you're right.
—I know.
That earned him an annoyed look, which only made Ethan smile a little more.
They split up near the edge of the plaza.
While Burgess circled toward the parking lot by another route, Ethan calmly headed back toward the vehicle while tracking the movement on his screen.
The moment he opened the driver's door, his phone started ringing.
Ethan climbed into the car and answered while starting the engine.
—Morgan.
Hank's deep voice came through the line.
—How's it going over there?
Ethan watched the small glowing dot moving slowly across the Chicago map.
—Good start —he replied while resting one arm on the steering wheel and watching the tracker move across the screen— The fish took the bait.
His eyes followed the signal as it slowly moved away from Millennium Park.
—Now all we have to do is let it swim… and see what kind of net it leads us to.
—Good. Keep following it. I've got bad news.
—Tell me.
—I just got notified by the hospital: Russell Thompson is dead.
—Shit. Anything else?
—No additional evidence so far. Lexi just became the only witness. The Chief is putting pressure on me, and I need the damn shooter.
—I understand.
—If we can't convict the killer without her, then we may not have any choice but to put her on the stand.
—Why? —Ethan asked— Can't we just keep insisting Lexi didn't see anything?
—It's not that simple anymore. Things got complicated. Apparently, two patrol officers arrived before Atwater and Burgess. They talked to Lexi at the scene and took her statement right there.
—And?
Hank looked up.
—Gang Intelligence already filed the report and sent it to the District Attorney.
The words hit like a bucket of ice water.
Now there was an official record. Lexi's name was already attached to the case, and removing it wouldn't be easy.
Ethan muttered a curse under his breath and rubbed a hand across his face.
—What's done is done —he said calmly— So first we catch the person responsible before Lexi's information leaks and she ends up in danger.
At that moment, finding the shooter was the only thing that mattered.
When the call ended, Ethan placed the phone on the dashboard and remained motionless for several seconds.
Then he cracked the window open slightly.
Chicago's freezing air immediately poured into the vehicle.
He lit a cigarette and took a slow drag while watching the distant movement of people around Millennium Park. Far away, the city lights reflected across Cloud Gate's metallic surface like distorted stains beneath the snow.
The tracker was still moving.
That was a good sign.
A second later, the passenger door suddenly opened.
Burgess climbed inside, still breathing hard from the chase, and slammed the door shut behind her.
—Where the hell did that kid go? —she asked, sounding equal parts excited and frustrated as she settled into the seat. —Why do you look like that?
Ethan slowly exhaled the smoke before answering.
—Russell Thompson just died. Lexi's the only witness now. And the DA knows it. She's officially part of the case.
The excitement instantly vanished from Burgess's face because she understood exactly what that meant for Olinsky.
—So what do we do now?
Ethan crushed the cigarette against the edge of the portable ashtray and rolled the window back up.
—Wait… follow the thief and wait for him to lead us to the shooter.
Ethan rested an arm on the steering wheel.
Burgess made a small, uncomfortable face and looked away.
—I'm sorry… I didn't know they'd already taken her statement before we got there.
Ethan turned slightly toward her.
—You didn't do anything wrong.
And he meant it.
Ethan picked up the tracker from the dashboard and turned the screen back on.
The tiny dot continued moving through the streets of Chicago. On the screen, a small point of light slowly shifted forward. Burgess leaned closer beside him, watching the screen with Ethan.
Her brown hair fell slightly, and a faint, subtle fragrance drifted through the air.
The inside of the car fell quiet as they followed the tracker moving across the screen.
The heater had only just started warming away the cold Burgess had brought in with her. Her cheeks were still slightly flushed from the run, and a few snowflakes continued melting against the red sleeve of her jacket.
Then Ethan suddenly spoke without taking his eyes off the windshield.
—What perfume are you wearing?
Burgess turned toward him, surprised.
—What?
—Smells good —he said casually.
For a moment, she seemed to forget about the case entirely.
—Coco Chanel… —she answered after a short pause.
She blinked several times and looked away toward the window, feeling warmth rise all the way to her ears.
Ethan gave a small nod, as if he had simply confirmed another detail.
A few seconds later, the glowing dot on the screen changed direction and started moving toward another part of the city.
Ethan picked up the tracker phone and handed it to Burgess before pulling the car back into traffic.
—Looks like he's heading toward another tourist spot —he murmured as they left the parking lot— Seems the kid's not done with his shift yet.
Burgess watched the moving map.
—Then we probably won't have to wait long. A couple more thefts and he'll call it a night.
Ethan tapped his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel while traffic crawled ahead of them.
Time was starting to work against them.
—You sure?
Burgess nodded while watching a group of teenagers skating several blocks ahead.
—Yeah. These guys never carry too many phones with them. Sooner or later, he'll have to stash them somewhere.
Her tone turned more serious.
—If patrol stops them and finds all the stolen stuff, it's too big a loss. So they don't carry everything at once.
Ethan briefly glanced toward her.
It made sense.
The kids were just collectors. Eventually, they'd have to report back to someone more important.
—Looks like we're going to be waiting a while.