Chapter 210 - I miss Aunt Ginger.

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—Hello. Guess where I am?

—Shit! —she cut him off immediately— You're on the missing kid case, aren't you? Thank God.

Ethan stopped beside the Interceptor, looking toward the Casden house across the street.

—How did you guess?

There was a second of silence. Not a good one.

—First, you need to come to my house —Fiona said, lowering her voice urgently— Hurry, please. And come alone.

—What did you do?

—I didn't do anything. Just come.

—Fiona…

Beep.

The call ended before Ethan could ask another question.

He stared at the screen for a moment, his confused expression slowly turning into suspicion. When a Gallagher told you "come alone," it rarely meant anything good.

Then he stopped to think. All of this felt vaguely familiar, but whenever he tried to remember, the thought slipped out of his head.

Ethan put the phone in his pocket, grabbed the walkie-talkie, and told Hank he was going to check out a possible lead two blocks away. He didn't give too many details.

Then he got into the Ford Interceptor and drove to the Gallagher house.

It was only two blocks away, so it took him less than a minute to arrive. The moment he set foot on the porch, the door flew open.

Fiona appeared on the other side, pale, nervous, and with that look in her eyes Ethan was beginning to know far too well: the look of someone who had found a massive problem.

She glanced both ways down the street, grabbed Ethan by the hand, and pulled him inside.

—Get in. Quickly.

—Fiona, what's going on?

—Promise me that no matter what happens, you'll help us.

Ethan looked at her as she dragged him toward the stairs.

—That sentence has never reassured anyone.

—I'm serious —Fiona said, climbing the steps almost in a rush— I don't know what to do either. I need you to help me find a solution.

—That sounds worse.

Fiona didn't answer. She only led him to a small room on the second floor and opened the door.

Debbie was standing in a corner, arms crossed, lips pressed into a guilty pout. She looked more annoyed at having been caught than aware of the magnitude of the problem.

Beside her was a toy car.

And sitting inside it, perfectly calm, was a blond little boy in a pink outfit. His hair was a little messy, his eyes were light, and there was an enormous circle of red lipstick drawn around his mouth, as if someone had tried to put makeup on him by copying a cartoon.

Fiona leaned against the wall, stuck her hands in her pockets, and looked at Ethan with an expression of complete helplessness.

At first, Ethan didn't react. His brain took a couple of seconds to process the scene.

Then he looked at Debbie. Then at the toy car. Then at the blond child.

Ethan felt his expression freeze.

—What the hell?

Ethan immediately pulled out his phone and opened the photo of Casey they had sent him for the alert. He compared it to the child sitting in the toy car, then looked back at the screen.

There was no doubt.

The clothes were different, the hair was a little messy, and that disaster of red lipstick around the mouth made him look like a badly made-up doll, but it was him.

It was Casey.

Ethan slowly lifted his gaze toward Fiona.

—This isn't what I think it is, right?

Fiona closed her eyes for a moment, as if she wanted to disappear through the wall.

—It's exactly what you think it is —she said, her voice tight— I just found out.

Then she turned her head toward Debbie, who was still standing in the corner with her arms crossed and an expression somewhere between guilt, stubbornness, and childish irritation.

—Why did you steal a little boy, bring him home, put lipstick on him, and dress him like a girl?

Debbie frowned, offended.

—I didn't want to.

Ethan blinked.

So did Fiona.

—What do you mean, you didn't want to?

—I originally wanted to kidnap a girl —Debbie said, as if that explained the situation—, but I couldn't find one.

The room fell silent.

A long, heavy, absolutely absurd silence.

Fiona brought a hand to her forehead, trying not to lose her mind.

—Debbie…

Ethan slowly lowered the phone, looking at the child as if he were reevaluating the entire scene from scratch.

—Wait. Are you saying you kidnapped a boy because you couldn't find a girl?

—I didn't kidnap him —Debbie protested immediately— I just brought him home.

—That's kidnapping —Ethan said.

—Not if I was going to take care of him.

—Debbie, that is the definition of a damn kidnapping.

Fiona took a step toward her, completely shaken.

—That's not the point. Well, yes, that's also the point, but not the only one. The point is: why the hell would you steal a child? Do you have any idea how serious this is?

Debbie lowered her gaze, but kept pouting.

—I just wanted a little sister.

Fiona opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, and for a second found no words.

—A little sister? —she finally repeated, incredulous— So your solution was to go out into the street, grab the first little kid you found, and turn him into a girl with pink clothes and lipstick?

Debbie muttered, almost under her breath:

—He wasn't the first one. He was the prettiest.

Ethan ran a hand over his face.

—My God.

—I miss Ginger —Debbie said angrily.

—Why did they take Ginger away? I don't have any friends. I just wanted a friend.

—Oh, my God.

Fiona covered her head, not knowing what to say for a moment.

—Who's Ginger? —Ethan asked, spreading his hands.

Thanks to Fiona's explanation, he finally understood what had happened.

It had all started because of Frank. Ginger was Frank's aunt and the original owner of that house.

She had been dead for many years, but Frank had been fraudulently collecting Ginger's pension.

Some time ago, a government department had sent people to investigate, mainly to verify whether there had been any fraudulent collection of insurance money.

To keep Frank out of prison, the siblings had been evicted, and Fiona, helpless, had only been able to bring in an elderly woman from the private nursing home where Veronica worked part-time to pretend to be Aunt Ginger.

Although the matter had been resolved satisfactorily, Debbie had resisted being separated from the old woman.

She had been sad for the past few days.

Unexpectedly, she had caused a disaster like this.

—This is bad.

Ethan crouched down and looked at Debbie.

—Now I have to take Casey back. Where are the clothes he was wearing?

—I just gave him orange juice.

Debbie reluctantly pointed to the cardboard box on the floor beside her.

—His clothes got dirty, and I already put them in the wash.

Fiona ran downstairs and soon returned with a Superman costume.

—I'll return him like this!

Looking at the shrunken clothes, Ethan shrugged and said:

—No.

Fiona shook her head in panic.

—If Casey changes clothes, people are definitely going to ask questions until they figure out why.

—Why don't you just tell them directly?

Ethan asked with a relaxed expression.

—Debbie didn't do anything to Casey.

—Don't worry, I'm here. I'll make sure she doesn't get into trouble.

—It's not that simple —Fiona refused flatly— If something like this happens, CPS is going to come knocking at our door —Fiona said, her voice gradually breaking— And when that happens, it's over. Except for me, everyone will end up in foster homes until Frank proves he's capable of taking care of them.

She let out a bitter laugh, without a trace of humor.

—And you know as well as I do that Frank can't even prove he's capable of taking care of himself.

The room fell silent.

Fiona ran a hand over her face, trying to hold herself together, but her eyes were already filled with tears.

—I've already been through that, Ethan. I already know what it's like to be separated from your siblings, to be put in a house where you don't know anyone, to have to pray that the person you end up with isn't worse than the one before. I don't want them to go through the same thing. Not again.

Debbie, who until that moment had remained with her arms crossed and her brow furrowed, began to truly understand the magnitude of the disaster. Her expression slowly changed. Her childish stubbornness faded, replaced by fear and guilt.

She lowered her head and stayed silent beside the door.

—Please —Fiona murmured, looking at Ethan in desperation— I'm begging you. Think of something.

Ethan didn't answer right away.

He looked at Fiona, then at Debbie, and finally at the child sitting in the toy car, unaware of the chaos his presence had caused there. He scratched his head in frustration.

The problem was that Fiona was right.

If this was handled as a formal kidnapping, Child and Family Services would not take long to appear. And with Frank Gallagher as the legal guardian, the chances of the family staying together were practically nonexistent.

Besides, because of his own experiences, Ethan had never had a good impression of that system. Seeing Ian, Lip, Carl, Debbie, and Liam scattered across different foster homes was not an image he could easily ignore.

Ethan let out a heavy sigh and put the phone back in his pocket.

—All right —he finally said in a low voice— First, nobody panics. Second, nobody says the word "kidnap" inside this house again. And third…

He looked at Debbie sternly.

—You are not going to open your mouth unless I ask you something. Understood?

Debbie nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on the floor.

—Yes.

Ethan turned his gaze back to Fiona.

—I'm going to get Casey out of here, and I'm going to return him before this becomes impossible to fix.

—Let's go buy a new Superman suit.

After a moment of thought, Ethan pointed to the shrunken Superman costume Fiona was holding and then looked at Debbie.

—Later, we'll think of an excuse for Debbie to come back with Casey. It's the only way to avoid problems.

—Good idea.

Fiona nodded quickly and turned to leave.

—Hey.

Ethan quickly followed her out of the room and grabbed her.

—Honestly, do you have a safe place?

—We need to find someone we trust to help us take care of Casey. If we're not here and Debbie takes the kid somewhere else, that would be a real problem.

His reminder made Fiona realize the situation.

Not to mention Casey's mouth full of lipstick, which also needed to be washed off properly.

—We're going to Veronica's —Fiona said, making a sudden decision.

She went back into the room, carefully picked Casey up in her arms, and came out almost immediately.

—My water heater is broken —she explained quietly as they went down the stairs— So this is a good chance to wash him there and get all that lipstick off before anyone sees him like this.

Ethan followed closely behind her, looking toward the hallway window.

—My water heater isn't broken.

Fiona glanced at him over her shoulder, confused for a second.

Ethan gave her arm a gentle nudge with his elbow and barely smiled.

—What do you say you come shower at my place tonight?

Fiona stopped just long enough to slap him on the ass, more by reflex than playfulness.

—Are you serious? —she muttered, though a spark of disbelief crossed her face— We're hiding a missing child and you're still thinking about sex?

—It helps me manage stress.

—Very professional, detective.

Before leaving, Fiona went to the window and pulled the curtain aside with two fingers. She looked out at the street, at the patrol cars in the distance, at the neighbors still peeking from porches and windows.

When she was sure no one was looking directly toward the house, she wrapped Casey in her jacket, covering his face enough that he couldn't be recognized from outside.

—Quickly —Fiona whispered.

They slipped out the front door without making a sound and immediately moved to the side, pressing themselves against the facade as if crossing that small stretch of sidewalk were an undercover operation.

Veronica's house was right next door. Fiona had a spare key, so she went up to the porch without knocking, opened the door with trembling hands, and went inside with Casey in her arms.

Ethan stayed at the entrance for a second, watching the street.

The neighborhood was the same as before: patrol cars in the distance, neighbors murmuring, police radios crackling far away. No one seemed to have noticed the movement.

Less than a minute later, Fiona came back out, breathing hard, though trying to stay composed.

—Come on, get in.

She took Ethan's hand and pulled him inside. Her fingers gripped his too tightly.

Ethan noticed the tremor in her hand even before he saw her eyes.

Fiona wasn't thinking only about Casey. She was thinking about Debbie, Carl, Ian, Lip, Liam. About all of them being separated, divided, torn away from the only home they knew.

If this came to light, her family could fall apart. In a panic, she had only been able to think of Ethan. In that moment, he was the only person she could turn to without everything immediately getting worse.

Fortunately, he hadn't refused.

—Thank you for doing this —Fiona murmured, her voice lower than usual.

—It's nothing.

Ethan barely smiled and gave her hand a gentle pat, trying to calm her down.

He understood her situation. He knew what Fiona had sacrificed for that family, how much she had carried on her shoulders since she was far too young.

Besides, Casey wasn't hurt. He was scared, confused, and ridiculously made up, but unharmed.

This hadn't been a planned kidnapping. It had been an impulsive stupidity by Debbie, a child who had made a huge mistake without truly understanding its consequences.

If it weren't for the Gallagher family's special circumstances, returning Casey immediately would not have been a problem.

After all, Debbie was only a ten-year-old girl, and earlier, in the room, when he saw Casey, the two of them had been having a great time.

Holding Ethan's large hand, Fiona's emotions stabilized.

Hand in hand, the two of them walked toward where the car was parked.

—Woo, woo, woo!

A familiar sound approached from the distance. The siren quickly stopped, and a voice announced:

—Attention, this is the Chicago Police Department.

—We are looking for a missing two-year-old boy, Casey Casden.

—The missing child is wearing a Superman costume, is Caucasian, and has blond hair. If you have any information, please call 911 immediately. Thank you.

The announcement ended, and the patrol car arrived.

—Hi, Fiona.

The driver was Tony, with his blond hair carefully styled.

—Hi, Tony.

Although nervous, Fiona pretended to be calm and extended her hand to introduce him.

—This is Ethan. He's my friend.

—No need to introduce us. We already know each other.

Tony nodded at Ethan and then looked at their intertwined hands.

—Detective Morgan, what's this?

—You know, Fiona lives nearby, and I was looking for her so she could understand the situation —Ethan said with a smile.

Fiona quickly stepped in.

—Tony, is it possible the kid just got lost?

—I hope so too —Tony said, pursing his lips and pointing at the sky— The helicopters are up. We'll definitely find Casey.

—If someone kidnapped him, no matter who did this, I'll find that bastard and tear his head off.

As his voice faded, a roar echoed in the air.

A blue-and-white helicopter flew over their heads, and Fiona's mouth fell open.

—I'm leaving, detective.

Tony looked at Ethan, who was standing beside Fiona, and felt a deep sense of insecurity.

He immediately started the patrol car and quickly drove away.

—We need to hurry —Fiona said, looking at Ethan as the helicopter in the sky made her nervous.

They got into the Ford Interceptor and drove off quickly.

Ethan knew the department's current search area, so he found a distant place and returned after Fiona bought the Superman costume.

As they drove at full speed back near the Gallagher house, they saw two older boys at the side of the road pushing a shopping cart, with a cylindrical water heater resting in it.

—That's Lip. Stop the car, quick.

When she saw them, Fiona shouted immediately.

Ethan instantly turned the wheel. The brake pads screeched, and inertia made the Interceptor surge forward.

The vehicle that suddenly approached startled the two boys, who let go of the shopping cart and nearly took off running.

That was the natural reaction of kids who lived on the South Side: run first, ask questions later.

—Lip, it's me.

Fiona's shout made the two of them stop.

—Shit.

Seeing Ethan and Fiona in the car, Ian's chest heaved.

—Man, you almost made us piss ourselves.

—Hey, look what we found.

Lip recovered and, with a cheerful slap, hit the water heater sitting in the shopping cart.

—This thing is practically new. We can finally take a decent hot shower.

—Wait.

Fiona waved her hands.

—Find Carl and get back home quickly. Debbie stole a kid. We need to figure out how to return him.

—What the hell?

Lip's blank eyes widened.

—Debbie stole a kid? Why would she do that?

—Just find Carl and get back home fast.

Fiona was getting a little nervous.

—Got it.

Ian didn't say another word and ran off to the side.

—I'll go find Carl.

Lip, on his own, spun the wheels of the shopping cart, sending it crashing uncontrollably into a fence.