In which a detective amongst Chicago's highest Missing Persons specialized unit lands on an active case being worked by none other than the Intelligence unit.
With no other choice than to work together, Violet Hayes and Hank Voight decide to join f...
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The sky deepened into an ink-black canvas, the air turned biting cold, sending shivers through the team as they gathered. Even in the district, the crispness of the night seeped in, prompting Violet to cross her arms over her chest as she waited for the detectives and investigators to prepare.
"All right, people. We're going dark tonight. That means we stay in teams of two and we are thorough. I do not want anything to go unnoticed." Violet's voice cut through the chill, catching everyone's attention. "Blythe and Upton, Ruzek and Cook, Atwater and Burgess, Halstead; you're with me." She announced the pairings, pointedly ignoring the sharp glare sent her way by Wesley, whose frustration simmered beneath the surface. She knew exactly what was troubling him: being paired with someone outside their unit and her choice to partner with Halstead.
Not that Violet felt compelled to explain herself. She was confident that teaming with Halstead would strengthen their efforts, given they were both strong references for their teams. Ignoring Wesley's discontent was surprisingly easy—perhaps too easy for his liking.
They proceeded to the basement, the stark fluorescent lights flickering overhead as they changed into their blacked-out uniforms. The fabric felt cool against their skin, designed to blend into the night. As Violet put on her bulletproof vest, she felt a hand deftly adjusting it around her shoulders. She almost flinched, unused to the touch. Her team usually knew better than to invade her personal space. When she turned to see Jay's blue eyes studying her intently, words slipped from her grasp.
"Ready, Sergeant?" he asked, breaking the moment. Violet's gaze drifted to their teammates, who were geared up, the tension palpable in the air. She nodded, gesturing for them to move out, her heart racing slightly—not from fear, but from the thrill of the night's mission.
Sliding into Jay's pickup truck, she noticed how the interior gleamed under the moonlight, the leather seats polished and pristine. She felt a twinge of guilt for her most likely muddy shoes but shook it off as she opened the file on her lap, determined to formulate a solid plan as they drove through the eerily empty streets.
The headlights illuminated the grass lining the road, casting ghostly shadows that danced across the homes and cracked sidewalks. As they approached the designated street, the air grew thicker with a silence, broken only by the rustling leaves in the wind.
"Park here," Violet ordered, pointing to a spot that perfectly blocked any potential incoming vehicles. The rest of the team parked on either side, the engines humming softly before falling silent, heightening the night's stillness.
Violet connected their comms, the static filling the air before she spoke, "Everybody copy?" Once confirmed, she continued, "The house looks empty, but there's a light on inside. Stay sharp, everyone." She signaled for them to disembark, the tension in the air electric as they moved into their positions.
Regrouping behind Jay's truck, Violet glanced around, taking in the dilapidated house—the peeling paint, the rusting fence that sagged under the weight of neglect. "Blythe and Upton, I want you searching outside. Check that pile of debris over there," she instructed, pointing to a mound of discarded junk, slightly illuminated due to the faint glow from the house. "Atwater and Burgess, head next door. Ruzek and Cook, you're with us inside."
