🔥 Read 10 Chapters Ahead! 🔥
Join my Patreon and get:
đź“– 10 Advance Chapters
đź’¬ Early updates
❤️ Directly support the story
One subscription unlocks everything.
Thank you for supporting!
đź”— Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/cw/TemporalPhantom
-----------
A short while later, they arrived at the auto repair shop.
The cars stopped one after another half a block away, with no sirens or lights, far enough not to announce their arrival too soon. The doors opened almost at the same time, and the team got out in silence, adjusting their bulletproof vests and checking their weapons with quick, automatic movements.
In front of them stretched a wide yard, closed off by a rusty iron gate. Through the bars, several damaged vehicles could be seen—some missing tires, others with shattered windows and paint eaten away by rust.
The place looked closed, but not abandoned.
Hank observed the perimeter for a second, then gave a short gesture with his hand.
—Let's go.—
No one spoke.
—Let me.—
Olinsky lowered the pry bar he was carrying on his shoulder and was about to step forward.
—No need.—
Ethan reached out and placed his hand on the iron gate, pressing it gently.
With a faint creak, the gate opened halfway.
Ethan pulled his hand back. His fingers rubbed quickly against each other, stained a bright red.
—Careful. There are traces of blood.—
He had noticed a few drops of blood on it a moment earlier.
Seeing the fresh blood on Ethan's hand, everyone went on alert instantly and moved quickly toward the warehouse, following a line of abandoned vehicles.
They ignored the front roll-up door and circled the building until they found a side door covered with a metal plate.
Ruzek pressed against the side door the way Ethan had, but it didn't move.
He went from pressing to striking hard, pounding the door panel with his fist.
—Chicago Police!—
Sumner stepped forward, gripping a shotgun. She raised the stock of the weapon, aiming the barrel diagonally toward the door lock.
—Move aside.—
Seeing her determined attitude, everyone stepped back two paces, and Sumner pulled the trigger fiercely.
Bang!
The lock area instantly turned into a huge hole.
The pieces fell inside with a metallic noise.
Sumner immediately lowered the weapon and stepped back a few paces. Ruzek quickly followed and kicked the iron door hard.
Boom!
The side door still didn't move, and Ruzek, not expecting it, slipped.
Ethan caught him in time, saving him from public humiliation.
—There must be other bolts.—
Seeing this, Sumner quickly pumped the shotgun and fired twice more at the door hinges, producing a loud crash.
—Go on.—
Ethan patted Ruzek on the back, pushing him forward.
This time, Ruzek did not disappoint.
He forced the door down with a shove.
Inside the warehouse, Ethan advanced slowly. No unknown lights appeared on the radar, but that didn't mean there was no one inside. The space was large.
The beam from his tactical flashlight swept across the place, illuminating rows of tall shelves packed with various car parts.
—Your actions just now don't look like someone who always sits behind a desk.—
Ethan quickly examined his surroundings while speaking in a low voice to the person behind him.
—I got excellent grades at the police academy.—
Sumner followed Ethan closely, breathing a little heavily, flexing her hand around the grip of her weapon.
—I also usually ask others about field operations.—
—Take a deep breath,— Ethan said quietly. —You need to maintain a certain level of relaxation during a direct shootout. Being too nervous will lead you to make the wrong decisions.—
—Understood!—
Sumner nodded.
—Bad judgment makes it easy to get shot, right?—
—You learn fast.—
Ethan smiled and lowered his weapon.
—You'll be a good field officer.—
Bang!
Sumner didn't notice that Ethan had stopped and bumped into his back.
Without realizing it, they had reached the end of the warehouse, and the figures of Hank and Antonio also appeared on the other side.
—Clear.—
Looking at the wall that extended a few yards ahead, Sumner felt a little embarrassed.
—Hey!—
Ruzek's shout echoed with a trace of fear.
—Sergeant, I found something.—
The beam of the flashlight switched on again, and they quickly walked toward the center.
It was a corner surrounded by several shelves, with plastic barrels and various objects piled all over the floor.
Olinsky and Ruzek were standing beside a plastic barrel more than a meter high, shining their flashlights inside.
The light pierced through the barrel, and the liquid inside glowed with an unsettling blood-red color.
—Oh my God!—
Erin was the first to approach. When she saw what was inside, her face instantly turned pale.
Ruzek's face, beside her, was also pale, but fortunately, his previous experience cleaning up corpses allowed him to endure it.
Ethan and Sumner approached and saw a body submerged inside the plastic barrel.
The liquid inside was still bubbling.
A faint column of white smoke floated above it, and a strong, piercing smell made them cover their noses.
The body was badly corroded, and its facial features were already blurred.
—Ugh…—
Sumner quickly ran off into the distance as the wrenching sound of vomiting echoed through the air.
—Well, how should I put it?—
Ethan slowly shook his head and pointed at the shoulder of the body floating inside the liquid.
—Well, it looks like our friend Tony didn't get a happy ending. The tattoo on his shoulder is the same one in his file,— Ethan added.
Everyone followed the direction of his gaze.
Despite the state of the corpse, part of the tattoo could still be distinguished on the corroded skin.
—Looks like Tony was exposed, and whoever hired him silenced him,— Hank said. —Call for backup,— he ordered. —I want this place searched from top to bottom. Turn over every last tire in this shop.—
Erin was already moving. She approached the radio, pressed the button, and looked up at the rest of the team.
—Intelligence here. We need additional units and forensic techs at our location.—
Backup arrived quickly, and the forensic team also showed up at the scene.
The Intelligence Unit and patrol officers began searching the interior, and a few minutes later, they made a new discovery.
—Detective.—
A patrol officer called Ethan and Antonio over while holding something in his hand.
The two approached quickly.
It was a dark corner, with a makeshift resting area, and some personal objects had fallen onto the bedding.
—A cell phone.—
The patrol officer handed the object to Antonio, pointing to one side at the same time.
Ethan shone his flashlight into the corner. The bedding was overturned, a complete mess.
—Was it like this when you got here?—
He looked at the patrol officer.
—Yes.—
The patrol officer nodded.
—I was very careful. This place is practically the same as before.—
It looked like there had been a fight there.
Antonio pressed the buttons on the old phone in his hand, constantly checking the call log.
—Something's not right here.—
Seeing the number listed on the screen as "Lawyer," Ethan reached out and touched the screen.
—Looks like Tony was desperate to contact him. He made twenty calls in less than ten minutes.—
—Exactly.—
Antonio pocketed the phone.
After pressing the radio, the two of them walked out of the warehouse together.
Soon, the others also came out one after another.
—Alright, tell me. Did you find anything useful?—
Hank asked, his hands tucked into his bulletproof vest.
—The medical examiner found ligature marks on the remaining part of the body's neck, which proves it was a homicide. Of course, we all know Tony couldn't have put himself into that barrel of hydrochloric acid.—
Antonio waved the object in his hand and continued:
—We found Tony's phone. We discovered he contacted his lawyer more than twenty times in the last twenty-four hours.—
—She must know something.—
—Alright, then.—
Hank looked at the people around him.
—Erin, find out the name of the suspect's lawyer. Take Sumner with you, go see her, and find out what you can get from her.—
—No problem.—
Erin grabbed Sumner, and they left the shop, leaving only the men from the unit behind.
—Alright, let's head back.—
Hank waved his hand helplessly.
—Let forensics take over the scene. We're going back to the station.—
On the way back to the precinct, a bright roadside sign flashed past. Ethan searched his pocket and saw that he had run out of cigarettes, so after saying something over the intercom, he immediately left the convoy.
As soon as he returned to the area near the store, he saw three people open the glass door and come out arguing.
The person walking in front stepped straight into the street, carrying a large pile of things in a cardboard box, strutting with an arrogant gait.
The two people behind him stayed outside the store. One of them was a young man in a plaid shirt, with red hair and freckles.
It was Ian, Fiona's brother.
Ian stood on the sidewalk, saying something to the man who had gone into the street.
Ethan parked his Ford Interceptor beside Ian, turned off the engine, and got out.
—Damn it, Mickey. Can't you go to some other damn store?—
Ian was so focused on arguing that he didn't even notice Ethan's presence beside the Ford Interceptor. His arms were spread, half exasperated and half amused, as he looked at the black-haired boy holding a cardboard box in his hands.
Mickey Milkovich glared at him.
—Shut your mouth, Gallagher.—
Before Ian could answer, Mickey reached into the box, pulled out a can of soup with an impatient gesture, and threw it straight at his face.
Ethan quickly stepped in and caught the can of soup barehanded.
—Hey, asshole, watch what you throw, or the next thing you see will be your face against the pavement.—
Mickey looked first at Ian, then sized up Ethan and said:
—Hey, idiot, what did you just call me?—
—Asshole. Are you deaf?—
Pushing Ian aside, Ethan took a step forward and asked:
—You got a problem with that?—
—Fuck you.—
Mickey cursed. He immediately reached into his pocket, pulled out a knife, and brandished it threateningly.
He approached with firm steps and said:
—I'll tell you exactly what my problem is.—
—Put that down before you regret it, kid.—
Ethan raised one hand, signaling for Mickey to stop before doing anything even stupider.
Mickey, of course, took the gesture as a provocation.
—Who the fuck do you think you are?—
He lunged, more impulsive than calculated.
Shk!
The movement barely got halfway.
Before he could take another step, Ethan drew quickly, almost too fast to follow. In one second, the barrel of the Beretta was pointed directly at the boy's forehead.
The boy froze.
All the anger vanished from his face at once.
—Hey, hey, hey!— he stammered, immediately raising his hands. —Easy, easy, man!—
Ethan took a step toward him without losing his smile. Mickey swallowed. His eyes kept dropping toward the gun.
Ethan tilted the pistol slightly, forcing him to crouch a little lower.
—On your knees… now.—
—Hey, hey, hey, hey…—
Mickey obeyed almost by instinct, lowering his body with his hands still raised, repeating meaningless sounds as he tried not to make any sudden movements.
Ethan advanced another half step.
—Bang.—
The simple sound was enough for Mickey to lose his balance and end up sitting on the ground, eyes wide open.
—Ethan, stop! It's not worth it,— Ian intervened nervously.
He was pale. He hadn't expected Ethan to carry a gun, much less draw it so naturally. But Mickey was his neighbor, his constant problem, and even so, he didn't want to see him end up with a hole in his head over a can of soup.
Ethan winked at Ian, making it clear he had the situation under control.
Then, without fully taking his eyes off Mickey, he lifted his jacket slightly and showed the badge clipped to his waist.
Mickey looked at it.
His expression changed from rage to pure regret.
—Shit…—
—Mickey, right?— Ethan asked.
Mickey didn't answer.
—I'll take that as a yes. Today is not your lucky day. You tried to assault a detective on duty…—
Mickey opened his mouth, but found nothing smart to say. Ethan slowly lowered the weapon, though he did not put it away yet.
—Listen carefully, Mickey. You're going to get up slowly, apologize to Ian, and never set foot in this place again… Have I made myself clear?—
Mickey clenched his jaw.
—And if I don't?—
Ethan smiled faintly.
—Then I take you in cuffs for vandalism, attempted assault on a detective, and I'm sure we can find another couple of charges along the way.—
Mickey looked at him with hatred, but this time he stayed quiet.
Ian let out the breath he had been holding.
—Just get out of here, Mickey.—
Mickey cursed under his breath, still sitting on the ground.
—I hate cops.—
Ethan calmly put his weapon away.
—Shit!—
Mickey sighed in relief, quickly got up using both hands and feet, and ran swiftly toward the street corner.
Seeing him disappear, Ethan smiled and looked at Ian.
Remembering the attitude Mickey had shown earlier, he felt a secret satisfaction. The guy was a little thug in that area, and he had never expected to see him humiliated like that.
Ethan was about to leave when he noticed the man standing some distance away, near one of the side shelves.
He was a man in his thirties, with Arab features, thin, wearing a simple shirt and a timid expression. His hands were clasped in front of his body and his shoulders were slightly hunched, as if he were trying to take up as little space as possible.
Realizing that Ethan was looking at him, the man reacted immediately. He straightened his back, opened a quick and somewhat ingratiating smile, and took a step toward them.
Ian followed Ethan's gaze and pointed at the man with a casual gesture.
—Oh, that's Kash,— he said. —The owner of the store.—
Kash raised one hand in greeting, still smiling nervously.
—Hello, officer.—
—Detective,— Ethan corrected, more out of habit than pride.
—Detective, of course. Sorry.—
Kash hurried to nod, as if he had just committed a serious offense. His eyes dropped for an instant to the badge at Ethan's waist and then returned to his face.
—Thank you for helping Ian.—
Ethan arched an eyebrow.
—It was nothing. That kid won't bother you again.—
Ian lowered his gaze to the counter, trying to hide a smile.
Ethan watched the owner for another second.
—Relax,— Ethan finally said. —I only came to buy a Coke.—
They pushed the glass door open and entered the store.
—What do you need?—
—A Coke, a couple bags of chips, and a pack of cigarettes.—
—Sure. Right away.—
Ian moved quickly between the shelves. He took the can from the refrigerator, picked out two bags of chips, and took the cigarettes from behind the counter. In less than two minutes, he placed everything inside a paper bag and pushed it toward Ethan.
Ethan took out thirty dollars and placed them on the counter.
Ian looked at the money and immediately shook his head.
—No, I can't accept that. It's on the house.—
—It was nothing,— Ethan replied, taking the bag. —You're Fiona's little brother. If I let someone hit you, she's not going to forgive me.—
Ian thought about it for barely a second and then took the money without further resistance.
—Well, if you put it that way…—
Ethan let out a low laugh.
—Wise decision.—
Ian put the bills in the register and then looked up at him.
—Carl's going to be happy when he finds out you stopped by.—
—Really?—
—Yeah. He's very excited, ever since you promised him something involving cops, guns, or cars.—
—Well, tell him I'll come visit soon.—
Ian smiled, making his freckles stand out more with the expression.
—Are you coming tonight?—
—Probably not. I'm in the middle of a case.—
Ethan shook his head and touched the badge again with two fingers.
—You know how it is.—
Ian raised both hands, as if he understood perfectly.
—Say hi to your sister for me.—
—Sure,— Ian replied.
Ethan left the store with a faint smile, while the sound of the glass door closing behind him mixed with the noise of the street.