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After several searches, they found nothing. Sims had vanished without leaving any trace behind.
Hank was furious, but also powerless. The officer had been reckless and had paid dearly for his actions, but he didn't deserve to die.
Watching the ambulance drive away, Hank could do nothing but angrily kick the car beside him.
Ethan shook his head and walked toward the patrol car not far away.
When he reached the rear of the vehicle, Burgess was leaning against the car, sitting on the ground, visibly still in shock.
—Give me your gun.—
Ethan crouched down and gently patted the hand holding the pistol.
—Yes.—
Burgess looked up, her eyes full of panic.
Obediently, she released the Glock and handed it to him.
—Stand up. You did very well.—
Ethan took the pistol and extended both hands to help Burgess to her feet.
—I'm sorry.—
Her legs still felt a little weak, but she managed to offer a faint smile.
—You don't have to apologize. I'm proud of you.—
Ethan gave her arm a gentle pat as he placed the pistol in his own holster.
Her emotions were unstable at that moment, so he would keep the pistol temporarily.
Footsteps sounded nearby. Atwater quickly returned after completing his search.
Seeing Ethan taking care of his partner, he immediately let out a sigh of relief.
The scene was processed quickly, and there was no point in staying there.
They returned to the precinct immediately.
After a day full of chaos, they had only found two bodies and one injured officer. Everyone was discouraged.
Not long after they sat down, Hank came out of his office with a serious expression.
—Unfortunately, I have bad news.—
—We received a call. The Rosemont officer who was shot earlier died from his injuries at the hospital.—
—Shit.—
Antonio struck the table with the pen in his hand.
The others also wore serious expressions. Although he had only been a patrol officer from a suburban area, he was still one of their own.
Besides, he had died after being shot during a joint operation. No one could be happy about that.
—He is survived only by his wife and two children,— Hank said, his hands in his pockets. —We lost a brave police officer.—
Ethan gave a faint smile.
The dead were always honored. Since the man had died, there was nothing left to do but say a few kind words.
—No matter what method we use, we have to find Sims.—
Hank spoke in a grave voice.
—You all continue with your work. I'll personally go talk to that lawyer tonight.—
After finishing, he turned around and returned to his office.
Sumner trembled when she heard the news. She and Erin already knew what had happened at the scene.
A bad judgment could cost a bullet.
She hadn't expected that statement to become reality so soon, leaving a lingering fear behind.
The matter had reached a dead end. Ethan remained seated for a while, then looked at the Glock placed beside him.
He took the pistol, stood up, and went downstairs.
After asking Platt where Burgess was, he headed to the patrol officers' break room.
When he opened the door, Burgess was sitting in a corner by the window.
The sunset cast a golden glow over her brown hair.
Ethan approached carefully and stood behind her.
Burgess moved the pen in her hand quickly, not knowing for a moment what to write.
As time passed, the image of herself shooting the suspect became clearer in her mind, but the events around it had grown blurry.
She bit down hard on the pen and scratched her hair in frustration.
—If you don't remember it, make it up. As long as it's reasonable.—
The sudden voice from behind startled her.
—Hey.—
Burgess quickly removed the pen from her mouth and forced a smile.
—Your gun.—
Ethan placed the Glock on the table, pulled over a chair, and sat down.
—Are you okay?—
—I'm fine.—
—First time taking down a criminal?—
Ethan had originally wanted to say "killing," but he thought "taking down in the line of duty" was more appropriate.
—Yes.—
Burgess nodded, frowning as she spoke.
—It's also the first time I've fired a weapon during an operation.—
—Alright.—
Ethan scratched his head. There were many officers who went their entire careers without firing a single shot, and then there were others like him, who could very well be called trigger-happy.
But for her, in her first shootout, she had killed someone.
No matter who it was, that would be a major shock.
—What did Platt say?—
Ethan tapped the table with his fingers, looking at the half-written report.
—Administrative leave, and three therapy sessions.—
Burgess tilted her head while continuing to fill out the form.
—Do you have anything to do tonight?—
Ethan looked at his watch. It was almost time to leave work.
—No.—
—Then let me buy you a drink.—
Burgess's eyelashes fluttered.
—Are you serious?—
Ethan winked at her.
—Of course. Besides, it's not like you're working tomorrow.—
Burgess nodded emphatically and bumped fists with Ethan.
As he went upstairs, Ethan saw Antonio rushing down and quickly grabbed his arm.
—Something happen?—
—No, I'm just going to visit Jay… you know.—
Antonio, seeing no one around, patted his chest, producing two dull thumps.
—Good.—
Ethan slapped his hand.
—If you need help, don't hesitate to ask.—
—Thanks.—
Antonio released his hand and quickly went downstairs.
Watching his hurried departure, Ethan was about to go up when Olinsky appeared at the top of the stairs, impossible to tell how long he had been standing there.
He took the licorice candy from his mouth, slowly descended, and asked in a low voice:
—Is this about Halstead?—
Ethan shrugged.
Since Olinsky had already guessed, there was no need to hide it.
Of course, he wouldn't go around telling people either.
—I'm leaving. See you tomorrow.—
As soon as he reached the office, Ethan saw Erin searching through his desk.
—Sugar, where the hell does he keep his candy? Damn it, why doesn't this guy like sweets? Chips, excellent.—
The rustling of bags accompanied Erin's constant muttering.
The snacks he had bought were under his desk.
—What are you doing?—
Ethan suddenly struck the desk, startling her loudly.
Bang!
Erin jumped, instinctively lifted her head, and hit it against the privacy panel of the desk.
—Bastard.—
She rubbed her head as she stood.
—So you're the one who's been secretly eating my snacks.—
Ethan placed one hand on the edge of the desk and carefully looked at the bags Erin was holding against her chest.
At first, he said nothing.
He only lowered his gaze to the chips, then to the soda bottle, then to the packet of cookies peeking out from between her arms.
Erin froze.
—T-this…— she began, searching for an explanation too quickly. —This is…—
—Mine?— Ethan asked, arching an eyebrow.
Erin blinked, lowering her gaze to the bags she held against her chest.
—Ours.—
Ethan arched an eyebrow.
—Ours?—
—Of course,— she said, gradually recovering, with a smile that tried to look innocent. —Wasn't it that what's mine is yours and what's yours is mine, honey?—
Ethan watched her for a few seconds before letting a slow smile escape.
—Alright,— he finally admitted. —You got me.—
Then he held out his hand.
—Give it back.—
—No.—
—Erin.—
—Don't look at me like that.—
—I'm looking at my chips.—
—Your chips were abandoned and unsupervised,— she replied, clutching the bags against her chest. —Technically, I rescued them.—
Ethan let out a low laugh and took a step toward her. Erin stepped back slightly, amused and defiant, as if she wanted to see how far he was willing to go for a bag of chips.
—Fine,— he conceded, —but leave me something. I just restocked everything.—
—Deal.—
Ethan studied her for a moment, noticing the open folders on her desk and the half-finished cold coffee.
—You working overtime today?—
Erin sighed, placing one of the bags on the table.
—Yeah. Hank asked me to review statements and prepare a case summary for the chief by early tomorrow morning.—
—Sounds fun.—
Ethan rested one hand on the edge of the desk.
—Come have a drink with me when you're done. Molly's will still be open.—
Erin looked at him over the folders, tempted but tired.
—I'd like to, but I don't know what time I'll finish. Hank wants this first thing in the morning, and I need to clock a couple extra hours. You know… not all of us are partners in an Indian casino.—
She paused, and her expression softened slightly.
—But the door to my apartment is always open for you.—
Ethan understood before she said anything else.
He could have offered her money. He could have told her she didn't need to kill herself working for a few extra dollars. But he knew Erin. He knew her well enough to know her pride wouldn't allow it.
So he didn't mention the money.
He simply took a cookie from the open package on her desk.
Erin looked at him, offended.
—Hey.—
—What's mine is yours and what's yours is mine, right?—
She narrowed her eyes.
—That only works when it benefits me.—
Ethan bit into the cookie and moved away from the desk.
Erin leaned back in her chair, tired, but with a different spark in her eyes.
—Besides, I'll be waiting for you tonight. I have whiskey… and new lingerie you might like to see.—
Ethan smiled faintly.
—My two favorite words in one sentence. You really know how to make me happy.—
She let out a soft laugh and picked up one of the folders again.
—Alright. Just let me know when you're done here.—
—I'll stop by Molly's first. I'm taking Burgess for a drink.—
Erin raised an eyebrow.
—Should I be worried?—
—No. I'm just giving her some moral support. Today she faced her first shootout and took down a suspect.—
The amusement faded a little from Erin's face, replaced by a more serious understanding. Then she nodded slowly.
—That's never easy.—
—No.—
Erin looked at him for a few more seconds, and the spark returned to her eyes.
—But I'm a detective, remember? If you do anything inappropriate, I'll know.—
Ethan raised his hands, pretending innocence.
—Then I'll have to behave.—
—You'd better.—
He smiled, took one last chip from the bag before she could move it away, and headed toward the door.
—See you tonight.—
Erin followed him with her eyes, trying to look annoyed.
—Don't steal anything else from my desk.—
Erin waited until he was halfway away before lifting the bag of chips hidden in the drawer.
—Too late.—
Ethan left the station shortly after, his jacket hanging over one shoulder and the exhaustion of the day still clinging to his body.
The cold Chicago air greeted him as soon as he crossed the door. For an instant, he stopped on the sidewalk and took a deep breath. It had been a long day.
He pulled the keys from his pocket, climbed into his Ford Interceptor, and before starting it, looked toward the district building for a moment. Then he turned on the engine and drove off without rushing.
Ethan drove with one hand on the wheel, in silence, letting the noise of the city fill the space.
When he arrived at Molly's, he parked near the entrance and got out of the car.