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Ethan remained still. He didn't take his eyes off him. He had seen enough suspects receive bad news to tell an authentic reaction from a poorly hidden lie.
Nick's reaction wasn't pain. It wasn't shock either.
It was relief.
—That way you're looking so happy right now…— Ethan said, leaning forward slightly, —isn't doing you any favors, Nick.—
Nick opened his mouth, but he didn't answer right away.
For the first time since entering the room, Ethan sat down across from him.
—So let's try this again. Did you kill Doctor Elliott to keep him from testifying at your trial?—
Antonio slammed his hand down on the table.
—Come on, man!— Nick exclaimed, recovering his mocking smile. —Do you really expect me to be sad because that doctor is dead?—
He let out a low laugh, leaning back in the chair.
—Besides, if I had killed him, why the hell would I be throwing a farewell party today?—
At the mention of the ruined farewell party, a flash of irritation crossed his eyes. But then, thinking that he might be able to get out of the charges, he looked cheerful again.
—So this time you really did commit a murder?—
Seeing him like that, Antonio grew furious. His teeth itched, and discreetly, he tried to set a verbal trap for him.
Nick was as slippery as a ghost and didn't fall for the trap at all.
His lips curled upward, and he said smugly:
—I have to admit something,— Nick said, reclining in the chair with an almost offensive calm. —Now that I know that doctor is dead, suddenly I feel like I did absolutely nothing.—
Antonio clenched his jaw. For a second, he seemed to restrain himself, but in the end he closed his fist and tossed the notepad onto the table.
—Write down every place you were yesterday,— he ordered. —Every location. Every hour. Every person you spoke to.—
Ethan slid a pen toward Nick.
—And phone numbers. We're going to need to verify your alibi.—
Nick looked at the pen, then at both detectives, and smiled as if they had just done him a favor.
—Sure. No problem.—
He took the pen with irritating calm and began writing, even humming softly under his breath, as if the pressure had suddenly evaporated.
On the other side of the glass, in the observation room, the mood was different.
Voight, Olinsky, and Ruzek watched in silence. None of them looked satisfied. Nick's reaction had been unpleasant, even repulsive, but not necessarily guilty.
If he had ordered or committed Doctor Elliott's murder, he wouldn't have received the news that way. Not with that clumsy surprise and that overly spontaneous happiness.
Nick was many things, but he didn't seem like a good enough actor to fake such a natural reaction.
—Hey.—
The door to the observation room opened behind them.
Erin came in with Joe Cruz. He was still wearing his firefighter uniform. Behind them came Ethan, who had left Antonio in the room with Nick.
—Cruz was the one who saw the driver this morning. He was practically face-to-face with him,— Erin said.
Voight gave him a nod, signaling for him to come closer.
Cruz stepped up to the one-way glass. On the other side, in the interrogation room, Nick was still hunched over the notepad, writing his supposed alibi with an arrogant smile.
Cruz watched him in silence, but he didn't need much time. He wasn't the man they were looking for.
After only a few seconds, he shook his head.
—It's not him.—
Erin frowned slightly.
—Are you sure?—
—Very sure. He wasn't the driver,— Cruz replied, without completely taking his eyes off Nick. —The driver had some cuts on his face, and this guy doesn't have any damage.—
Olinsky crossed his arms, still looking at Nick through the glass, and Cruz shook his head again.
—Believe me, Sergeant. I wouldn't confuse that guy. He wasn't the one driving.—
Voight clenched his jaw. Ethan turned his face, thoughtful.
Suddenly, something clicked in Ethan's mind. He knew his detective trait had activated; he had felt it before, like a cold impulse behind his eyes. For a second, the noise in the room seemed to fade.
Nick hadn't known that the forensic consultant who was supposed to testify at his trial was dead. He had been happy when he found out, yes. That made him despicable, but not guilty.
—I've got it…— Ethan murmured.
Everyone turned toward him.
Voight barely turned his head.
—Talk.—
Ethan kept looking at Nick through the glass.
—We're looking at this from the wrong angle.—
Olinsky frowned.
—What do you mean?—
—Nick is the most obvious suspect. He was the one with the closest upcoming trial,— Ethan said. —Everything fits too well. Think about it. Doctor Elliott was the key witness in his trial. He dies a couple of days before testifying, and we all look straight at Nick.—
Hank crossed his arms.
—It's too convenient,— Ethan continued, without taking his eyes off Nick on the other side of the glass. —From what I could see, he was genuinely surprised when we told him Doctor Elliott was dead.—
Ruzek frowned.
—Are you saying he didn't do it?—
—I'm saying it doesn't look like he planned it,— Ethan corrected. —And when an answer is too easy, we're usually asking the wrong question.—
Hank crossed his arms, attentive.
—And what's the right question?—
Ethan turned toward them.
—The question is: who else wanted the doctor dead?—
Silence fell over the room for a second.
Olinsky was the first to understand.
—Elliott was a DNA consultant for the State's Attorney's Office. He must have testified in more than one case.—
—Exactly,— Ethan said. —Nick wasn't the only man Elliott could bury with his testimony.—
—Then it could have been another defendant,— Ruzek added, following the idea.
—Or someone recently released,— Ethan continued. —Someone with an appeal pending, an upcoming trial, a conviction that depended on DNA evidence, or testimony Elliott could reinforce. Someone with a reason to silence him and enough intelligence to leave Nick as the most obvious suspect.—
Voight clenched his jaw and looked at Cruz.
—Would you recognize the driver if you saw a photo?—
Cruz didn't hesitate.
—Yes. I had him less than half a meter away. I can recognize him.—
Voight gestured toward Erin.
—Find every case Doctor Elliott testified in. Start with pending trials, active appeals, and recent releases.—
—No problem,— Erin said, taking out her phone.
Olinsky was already taking his jacket from the back of the chair.
—I'll go talk to the State's Attorney's Office. I want to know who had the most to lose if Elliott took the stand.—
Ruzek looked at Nick on the other side of the glass. The man was still sitting there with that arrogant smile, enjoying the idea of looking untouchable far too much.
—So this idiot just got lucky.—
Voight kept staring into the interrogation room, his face hard.
—Get his full alibi. If he's not the driver, I still want to know where he was when Elliott was killed.—
Ethan nodded and stepped away from the glass.
The case had just opened in another direction.
After that, Erin escorted the firefighter out of the observation room.
Inside the interrogation room, after Nick wrote down his whereabouts, he crossed his legs with a smug air.
Antonio entered the interrogation room with the information Nick had provided.
—If he can provide a solid enough alibi…—
Antonio tapped the notebook and shrugged.
—Then Nick will be the luckiest defendant in the criminal history of Illinois.—
—Double-check those alibis.—
Hank shook his head, looking at Nick, who was showing off inside.
Half an hour later, the suspicions against Nick were quickly dismissed. As Antonio had said, he was a lucky guy. After a little investigating and a couple of phone calls, it was confirmed that Nick had been far away, in Milwaukee, visiting his mother at a nursing home.
The facility sent over the visitor's signature and surveillance footage of the visit. The alibi was clear.
Meanwhile, Erin was still gathering data from the cases Doctor Elliott had worked on.
—I'm done here.—
Erin headed toward the pantry with a stack of photos, lifted her arm, and crossed her fingers.
—I found photos of everyone who was recently released.—
The firefighter was resting in the pantry. Erin went in and showed him a couple of photographs. A moment later, Erin came out with a photo in her hand and a satisfied smile.
—Tony Johnston.—
She pinned the image to the whiteboard. Seeing the bald white man on the board, everyone gathered around Erin's computer.
—Tony Johnston, member of the North Side gang.—
Erin looked at the screen and quickly read the suspect's information.
—Johnston was sentenced for multiple rape cases. He was granted bail two weeks ago and is currently awaiting the resolution of his appeal.—
—Here's his address,— Erin said, placing a sheet on the table. —Also, he's listed as the owner of an auto repair shop on the North Side.—
Hank looked up when he heard that.
—What do we know about this gang?—
Antonio nodded, leaning against the edge of the desk.
—The North Side gang. It originated in prison as a white supremacist group,— Antonio replied. —Every identified member has ties to nationalist groups across the country. These aren't guys who scare easily.—
Hank took the sheet and reviewed the address with a frown.
—Notify patrol,— he ordered. —I want discreet surveillance at Johnston's house. If he shows up, they don't touch him. They only notify us.—
Then he placed the paper on the table and looked at the team.
—We're going to the auto shop.—
Ethan took his jacket from the back of the chair.
—If Johnston is involved in this, maybe we'll find something there that connects him to Elliott.—
—Or something that tells us where he is,— Olinsky added.
Hank was already heading toward the stairs.
—Then move.—
Since this was Sumner's first operation with the Intelligence Unit, Hank decided to pair her with Ethan. He didn't say it openly, but it was obvious that he wanted to make things a little easier for her while also making sure someone experienced stayed close.
Once they got into the Ford Interceptor, silence settled between them almost immediately. Sumner adjusted her seat belt, looked out the window, and pretended to focus on the street while Ethan started the engine and calmly pulled out of the parking lot.
Ethan reached toward the music player and pressed a button without giving it much thought.
A second later, "Live and Let Die" by Paul McCartney began playing.
Sumner turned her head toward him, surprised.
—Seriously?—
Ethan kept his eyes on the road.
—What?—
—It's not just that you don't seem like the type to listen to this kind of music… your look and bad-boy attitude clash with it. I thought you'd be more into heavy rock, aggressive rap, or something that makes guys feel tougher.—
—I'm going to take that as a compliment.—
She shook her head, amused.
—I'm just saying the Beatles are old-fashioned music,— Sumner said, glancing sideways at the player. —It's something I'd hear at my grandmother's house.—
Ethan kept his eyes on the road.
—Then your grandmother knows how to listen to music.—
Sumner let out a brief laugh.
Ethan tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the song.
—By the way, there's something I don't know if I should say.—
—Just shoot. After seeing my ass this morning, there isn't much we can hide from each other, is there?—
—I'm sorry. I just want to make it clear I'm not a creep.—
Ethan glanced at her sideways.
—It's just that the other day, when I flew out your window,— Ethan said, without taking his eyes off the road, —before I left, I saw your boyfriend walk out.—
Sumner didn't respond. She only kept looking out the window, though the slight smile she had been wearing a moment ago disappeared.
Ethan continued in the same calm tone.
—And curiously, I saw him again later at a crime scene. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that your boyfriend was Edwin Stillwell, from Internal Affairs.—
The silence inside the Interceptor grew heavier.
If it had been anyone else, Ethan wouldn't have gotten involved in something like that. It wasn't his life, it wasn't his relationship, and frankly, it didn't have to matter to him.
But curiosity had gotten the better of him.
He wanted to know who Hank was dealing with. He wanted to know what kind of man was moving around Sumner and, by extension, around Intelligence. So he looked up information on Stillwell.
He didn't like what he found.
Stillwell was married. He had children. And, apparently, he also had a rather convenient ability to keep separate lives from spilling into one another.
Ethan wasn't exactly a saint. He didn't go around giving moral sermons to anyone.
But they were partners. Friends, if it could be called that. So a part of him felt he should at least warn her.
—I know,— Sumner finally said.
Her voice came out low and dry.
Ethan glanced at her sideways.
—You know?—
—Yes.—
The answer surprised him more than he wanted to admit. Sumner turned her face slightly toward him. Her expression no longer had any trace of humor.
—And it's none of your business.—
Ethan didn't answer right away.
—Promise me you'll never talk about this again.—
Ethan remained silent for a few seconds.
—Alright. I just thought you should know,— he finally said.
Sumner didn't look at him.
—Thanks.—
Ethan kept his eyes on the road, though the conversation left an uncomfortable feeling in his chest.